


The Sun and Other Stars

by RainbowMatildas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Winchester Sister, eventual destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 28,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowMatildas/pseuds/RainbowMatildas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saoirse Campbell is a loner. She wasn't always, but then again, she wasn't always Saoirse Campbell either.</p><p>Saoirse Campbell, formerly Audrey Winchester- loving girlfriend, legendary hunter, and the director of the mysterious Network. She's spent the last decade of her life trying to distance herself from the family she's hurt, but her younger brothers are suddenly thrust back into the picture. A good-intentioned best friend, prying neighbors, a missing girlfriend, and an <i>unbelievably</i> gay angel only adds to her problems. But there's serious trouble brewing, and this time, neither the angels nor the demons are behind it. With the body-count steadily growing, it'll be up to Saoirse and her companions to figure out who's doing it and stop them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “My will and desire were turned by love, the love that moves the sun and other stars.” –Dante Alighieri

The bedroom wasn’t very big. Even with her knowledge, history, and frequent use of credit card fraud, she couldn’t afford a very nice apartment. Not that she really wanted one. After all, she liked the tiny, cramped one she had now, with its musty smell and mysterious stains on the carpet; it reminded her of her childhood.

There wasn’t much furniture. A moth-eaten armchair sat in one corner, a plain wooden dresser in the other. A single lamp was on a tiny table, switched on and casting a warm orange glow around the room.

The only sound in the room was a ballpoint pen scribbling furiously across paper. Every few minutes, Saoirse heard a drop of water fall from the leaky faucet in the kitchen, but other than that, the apartment was quiet. Delilah was lying on her side next to her in bed. She stirred, mumbling under her breath. Saoirse smiled slightly and rubbed her back until she stilled, fingers tracing the angel wings tattooed across her shoulder blades. She returned to her papers with an inward sigh.

4:57 AM. The clunky old alarm clock on the bedside table blinked with large red numbers.

“Jesus, is it really five?” Saoirse muttered under her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her phone started to ring shrilly. “Oh, frick-”

She threw the blankets to the side and grabbed the phone as she hurried out of the bedroom. The dark wood floor was cool against her feet, and the draft blew a cold breeze across her bare legs, but she ignored it.

“Hello?” She said as quietly as possible.

“Hey, boss. Sorry to bother you this late- or should I say early?” Her “intern” Nat chuckled. “We got a quick question at HQ about-”

Saoirse tuned out most of what he said next. She mumbled a vague answer and instructions to talk to her about it further once she got into work before hanging up and leaning her head against the cold granite countertop.

“Another late-night phone call?”

Her head shot up, but she relaxed once she saw that it was Delilah. She was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed across her chest, a raised eyebrow poised above her ageless dark eyes, and her curls spilling down the sides of her face.

“Sorry I woke you,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I tried to be quiet.”

Delilah sighed and shook her head, the corner of her mouth quirked upward. “That’s surprising. I thought you of all people would be a gazelle in the night, nimble on her toes and silent as she dances across the kitchen,” she said dramatically as she sashayed across the floor and wound her arms around Saoirse’s neck. “But seriously- don’t interrupt any more of my beauty sleep.”

“I was just working on paperwork until just now,” Saoirse gave her a quick kiss. “It’s that stupid intern you should be threatening- not me!”

Her girlfriend smiled wickedly. “I don’t simply threaten, my dear. I follow through!” She cried, spinning her around by the waist.

Saoirse squealed and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t do that!” She giggled.

“Only if you come to bed with me,” Delilah teased with a wink.

Saoirse’s smile faltered. “Sorry, I really need to finish these papers…” She trailed off at Delilah’s frown.

“Do you ever stop working?” She demanded, angry now. Her arms were back across her chest, the air in the room practically buzzing with electricity.

“I’m saving lives here, you know,” Saoirse said incredulously. “You do get that, right? Everything I do– everything– I do for other people, other hunters.” Her eyes automatically flicked to the door, just to make sure no one was listening.

Delilah groaned. “Yes, I get that! But do you get this? We’re supposed to be a team – co-dependent. Jesus, it’s like I’m dating a brick wall! All I ever see you do is make phone calls, scribble away in that dumb journal, and stare off into space like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks book.”

“I do n-”

“Yes. You do.”

Saoirse sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her thoughts began to stray to years ago, many years ago, when she was screamed at for not doing anything useful. No. She shook herself from the memory and forced herself to look directly into her girlfriend’s eyes. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said finally. “This is me apologizing. I am really, truly, honestly sorry. And I’m going to try harder to fix this, I really am, but…”

Those eyes softened, and suddenly she was being held in strong, soft, dark arms.

“I know, I know,” Delilah murmured. “God, you’re just a whirlwind to keep up with. All I ask is that you slow down every once and a while and let the rest of the world catch up. Remember- not all of us were born into this ‘lifestyle,’” she added with air quotes and a chuckle.

Saoirse forced herself to smile and nod. I wasn’t born into it, she wanted to correct her, but she knew that wouldn’t go over well (for either of them).

Delilah grinned. “Now go finish those papers, you little twit!”

“God, I love you,” she sighed, kissing her on the cheek. “See you at work.”

A few minutes later, once Delilah had gone back to bed, Saoirse retrieved her papers and settled onto the couch for a few more minutes of scribbling. After a while, it started to rain; she was nearly lulled to sleep by the soft pattering of rain against the dark window. As her pen moved across paper, a car backfired on the street below. The engine roared by as she looked at the drop of black ink that had blotted out some of her sentence when she jumped.

She cursed under her breath and rolled her eyes at herself. Even after all these years…

She kept her head down while passing black cars. She ducked into alleys whenever she saw a classic. She practically sprinted in the other direction when she heard the telltale sound of a rumbling engine. Hell, she would be praying on all fours if she saw a 1967 Chevy Impala.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean cracked his eyes open and groaned. The sunlight pouring into the motel room blinded him for a moment, but that wasn’t the only think annoying him. There was the throbbing in his temple, the strong smell of alcohol he knew was from him, and that damn typing.

“Sam!” He muttered, sitting up slowly with a hand over his eyes. “Could you stop with the freaking typing?”

Sam was sitting at the end of his bed, fully dressed and eating breakfast while his laptop keyboard clicked and clacked under his quick fingers. He didn’t respond at first, instead giving him an amused eye roll as he swallowed a mouthful of apple. “No, Dean, I actually can’t,” he said coolly, returning his gaze to the screen.

“What are you even doing on that thing this early?” Dean asked, annoyed. His headache seemed to be getting worse by the minute, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his little brother.

“Trying to find a case,” he answered without looking away. “What else?”

Dean frowned. “I thought we had a case. Didn’t you find one last night? Something in… Tallahassee or something?”

Sam rolled his eyes again. “Topeka. And yeah, no. I did a little more research and it’s just a benevolent spirit. There’s already a hunter in the area. I’m sure he’ll be able to figure it out,” he said.

“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes at me, they’re gonna get stuck like that!” Dean warned, grabbing a clean(ish) pair of jeans and a faded Metallica t-shirt from his duffel bag.

“Nice try, Dean,” Sam snorted. “But I haven’t fallen for that trick since I was eight.”

Dean shrugged. “It was worth a shot,” he sighed, pushing himself out of bed and making his way across the tiny motel room to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a few!”

“Brush your teeth while you’re at it! You reek like a hangover!” Sam complained, chucking a tube of Crest at him.

Dean rolled his own eyes. “Gee, Sammy, I wonder why!”

He had a quick shower. He could only scrub crappy shampoo into his hair and lather even crappier soap over his skin for so long. He did let himself appreciate the slightly warmer than lukewarm water that particular motel had to offer- a rare luxury, but all too soon he was forcing himself to turn it off and step out onto the slick tile floor to towel off

He stepped out a few minutes later, jean-and-Metallica-clad and feeling much fresher than he had in a day or two.

“You have anything yet?” Dean asked, shoving his old clothes back in his bag.

Sam “hmm”ed. “Yeah… yeah, I think I actually do,” he said slowly. His eyes skimmed over his screen. “Something in Missouri.”

Dean groaned. “Always in Missouri.”

"Listen to this: ‘Early this morning, Jefferson City residents were shocked by the tragic passing of their fellow citizen, Oscar Hernandez. A former-felon turned church-going philanthropist, Mr. Hernandez was given an early-release on his sentence for being a supposed-accomplice in the death of his ex-wife, Robin. Since then, he’s converted to Christianity, begun serving as a chaplain at a local hospital, and now spends his weekends organizing events for the Clean Our River campaign.

"Sadly, Mr. Hernandez was found brutally murdered in the woods behind his home. Local authorities are considering Satanic-involvement in the killing because of the ritualistic-like injuries on Hernandez’s body and his brief affiliation with the occult before being released from prison. Unfortunately, police are unable to move Hernandez’s body for the time being, as recent snow fall and icy roads have made it impossible for the coroner’s truck to make it to the hilly area,’” he finished.

Dean considered it. “That sound like a vengeful spirit to anyone else?”

“Definitely. You feel like taking it?” Sam asked.

He shrugged. “I mean, if we don’t have anything else to do.” He sat down on the edge of his bed and started to tie his sneakers.

“What’s that mean?” Sam frowned.

“It just feels oddly quiet with the angels and demons lately, you know?” Dean said, tying his shoelaces into a tight double knot. “I keep expecting Cas or Crowley to show up everywhere we turn, telling us that the apocalypse is about to start. Again!” He added.

Sam chuckled. “Well, I think we’re safe for now. But at least let me know if you see Crowley hiding in the cabinet under the sink before I brush my teeth.”

Dean gave him a salute. “You’ve got my word on that, Sammy. Now let’s pack up and move out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Sam and Dean are finally in it! Heads up that this story is very Dean and Saoirse-centric, so the chapters will flip between their POVs. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

The thick (bulletproof) glass doors clanged shut behind Saoirse, but she was already too far away to hear. She walked briskly through the aisles between desks, cubicles, and stacks of milk crates overflowing with papers. Everyone she passed greeted her with a cheerful “Good morning!” and she tried her best to return them all with a warm smile and nod.

“Here’s those reports you asked for, Miss Campbell,” Nat said, holding a folder at her as he hurried to keep up with her stride.

“You know, Nat, everyone just calls me Saoirse,” she said with a small smile and tucked the folder with her other papers in her arm, still on the move. “You’re perfectly welcome to do the same.”

Nat panted, “If it’s alright, I’d feel better calling you Miss Campbell. Is there anything else you need me doing?”

Saoirse rolled her eyes when he wasn’t looking. “No, you can just go back to the phones. Make sure you call me if there are any problems worth my attention, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He cried, hurrying away.

She chuckled despite herself and shook her head in amusement, then continued her walk at a slightly slower pace. She finally reached her destination at the end of the work room- a massive whiteboard that covered most of the east-facing wall. Not only was it huge, but it was also covered in scribbles and notes of all colors and handwriting, squeezed in wherever it could fit. Some of the people who’d written notes on it weren’t even alive anymore, “killed in the line of duty,” as they sometimes put it. Their hasty scribbles were still left in the margins of others’, faded and waiting to be erased, but Saoirse left them up.

She glanced over the many words- green ones, pink ones, blue ones, black ones.

“salt-resistant… try iron”

“black eyes = demon”

“sulfur smell + gray fog + 3 deaths = ???”

She finally found what she’d been looking for, a small box in the corner for a recent werewolf hunt, and wiped off the long list of bullet points in it with a smile of content. She felt satisfied whenever she got the chance to erase yet another thing off the board, another tick on her to-do list for the day. Even though she usually enjoyed the organized chaos of the office, the ‘chaos’ part could sometimes be a little overwhelming.

Speaking of chaos, the rest of the board seemed to be unusually tight. Empty checkboxes were all over the place, indicating a hunt that hadn’t been taken yet- werewolves, vampires, kelpies, et cetera. Normally, the hunters finished their hunts and- after filing their reports and research- went to Saoirse so she could look for a new one to assign them. But she hadn’t done that for anyone in months. The Network had grown in the past few months to be bigger than ever, meaning more people called in hunts or favors. Nat was made the informal ‘operator’ who ran the phones and redirected the calls as needed. Saoirse occasionally walked out from her office into an empty building because they were all out on hunts.

Loud voices broke her out of her musings.

“I sure as he*l hope I never have to work with this son of a b*tch!” Someone was yelling.

“Well, right back at you, d*ck,” another shouted back.

Saoirse wasn’t tall enough to peer over the tops of the cubicles to see, but she quickly followed the voice until she could see the problem.

Two people, a middle-aged man and a young woman, were standing next to the phones. They had to be new recruits if Saoirse hadn’t memorized their names yet. They were visibly angry. The man had his arms crossed over his chest, as the woman glared back at him. A small crowd was gathering- three or four fellow hunters were already around them.

“You should probably take care of this,” Bo told her, now on her heels. Bo was what they called the walking-ER, or emergency response. He used to be a med school student, until he was attacked by a kitsune the week before graduation. Long story short, Saoirse ended up stabbing it in the heart just before it got to him and he never really went back to school. He mainly did patch-up jobs on whoever had just come back from hunts, taking care of stitches, and hairline fractures, and whatnot, but every once and a while someone got hurt bad and couldn’t make it back by themself. That’s when he got sent out.

“What’s going on?” Saoirse muttered back.

Bo shrugged helplessly. “It seems like they’ve been fighting non-stop since they started,” he said. “I really don’t know why.”

“Okay, listen up!” She said loudly, walking forward with her hands on her hips and her chin up. “Everyone who’s not these sorry excuses for hunters- go back to your own business! I should have a dozen reports on my desk in an hour and a half, and I don’t see a single one. Get on it!”

Everyone did a half-snigger, half-groan behind their hands as they retreated. Once everyone had gone back to work, Saoirse nodded approvingly and turned back to the two newbies, who were watching her with anxious expressions.

“Listen up, you two,” she said firmly, staring them down. “I don’t know whether you’ve noticed yet, but we try to run a tight ship around here. Sure, it doesn’t always work, but the whole idea behind the Network when I founded it was communication and connections to save lives. And I don’t see a whole lot of stellar communication slash connection coming from either one of you.”

The two of them both started to speak, but she cut them off with a cool glare. “Frankly, I don’t take excuses from these hunters- I take improvement, which I know you can do. So I’m assigning you both to a poltergeist case in Fairfax, Connecticut- didn’t I just say no interrupting? The case file’s in the box on my desk and there’s some notes on the board. Take it, check out whatever weapons you’ll need from Rex, and sign the sign-out sheet on Delilah’s desk. Capisce?”

They nodded quickly, before scurrying away, clearly biting back something they would have regretted. Saoirse groaned and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“Well, well, well- if it isn’t the one and only- Saoirse freaking Campbell.”

She frowned and turned around, but realized who it was halfway before she was fully facing her. “Nina freaking Sanchez!” She squealed, dashing into her arms.

“Oh, how you doing, baby girl?” Nina laughed as she squeezed her back. “Still playing around with that Delilah chick?” From anyone else, it would’ve made her feel offended, but now- coming from Nina- it only made her giggle and nod. “Good deal.”

“What are you doing back here?” Saoirse gasped in excitement, still refusing to let go.

Nina laughed. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you finish a hunt?” She asked sarcastically. “Come back and get a new one?”

Saoirse’s eyes widened. “You finished your hunt? But… so-”

Her friend cut her off, “Yeah, so there is no longer a single vampire in the state of California. I do try.” She gave a dramatic bow.

“Holy crap,” Saoirse breathed. “It’s only been six months!”

“Yeah, and I’m back for a new hunt! Got one for me, boss?”

Nina Sanchez was more than a friendly co-worker. Delilah might be her girlfriend, but Nina was Saoirse’s best friend. They’d known each other since high school, and although Nina sometimes disappeared for long periods of time to go on hunts, she was probably the best hunter the Network employed. Besides Saoirse, who now laughed.

“You just came back from a six-month hunt in which you eradicated every vampire from California, and you want a new hunt now? Just like that?” She asked incredulously.

Nina shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Saoirse stared at her for a few moments before speaking. “Oh- um… okay, then. Follow me.” She motioned for her to come along, sidestepping a few people and walking briskly to her office. She opened the door for Nina, then let it shut behind both of them as her friend looked around.

“You keep this place pretty neat for someone as crazy as you,” she remarked.

Saoirse hummed absently. “Mm-hm.” She was busy flipping through a stack of files on her desk. “Here we go! This one only just got faxed in this morning from one of our guys up in Missouri right now. Take a look at that and see if you’re interested.” She handed her the folder and leaned against her desk to watch her.

Nina flipped through the folder with a nod. “Looks good. Seems like a classic vengeful spirit- shouldn’t be too tricky.”

“So you’ll take it?” Saoirse asked.

Nina shut the folder and looked up at her with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Only if you come with me.”

“What? Why? You just said it wouldn’t be hard,” Saoirse said, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“Girl, you need a vacation! The bags under your eyes have bags! And judging from the size of the coffee cups in your trash can, you haven’t slept a full night in months,” Nina said.

Saoirse gestured to the mass of papers on her desk. “Nina, I’d really love to go on a ghost-hunting road trip with you, but a, this isn’t Ghostbusters III and b, I’m a little busy with all of this?”

Nina waved her off. “You can get Delilah to cover for you. Or give that little runt a temporary promotion- what’s his name? Neil? Nottingham?”

“Nat,” she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Close enough,” Nina shrugged. “Anyway, what do you have to lose? Everyone here can handle a few days without their golden protagonist. Just come! Please?”

Saoirse sighed. “Fine. But we’re taking my car.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the hits, guys! And side-note to my fellow Missourians: please don't get offended at the last bit! I make a couple of jokes about my dear homeland in this story, but it's all in jest, I promise. :) Enjoy!

The engine roared as the Impala sped down the foggy country road, kicking up a thick cloud of dust and gravel behind them. They’d cleared St. Louis several hours ago and were now zooming through the farmland of Missouri, nearly to Jefferson City.

Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel in time to the deafening Motörhead song blasting out of the car radio. “Playing for the high one! Dancing with the devil! Going with the flow, it's all a game to me!” He sang obnoxiously loud, grinning when he received a slap upside the head from Sam. He turned to retaliate, but stopped with a frown. “What’re you doing, Sammy?” He shouted over the music.

His brother was sitting in the passenger seat, rummaging through a cardboard shoebox sitting in his lap. He leaned over and turned down the volume before replying. “You mean besides not blasting out the eardrums of every cow in the vicinity? I’m going through one of Bobby’s old boxes. I think Jody gave some to us the last time we were in South Dakota, and I found this one in the trunk. I guess we just never got around to looking through them.”

Dean took a large bite of one of the sandwiches they’d gotten from a gas station a few miles back. “Anything interesting?” He asked with his mouth full.

Sam made a face. “Could you swallow first?”

“No, I can’t actually,” he shook his head. “I’ll ask again- you find anything interesting so far?”

Sam sighed. “I haven’t found much of anything yet,” he said. “It’s mostly old scraps of paper with little notes written on them. Must’ve been stray thoughts during hunts that he didn’t have time to write all the way down. I did find a few pictures of us when we were little- a lot from that summer we spent there, when Dad was on the rugaru hunt. Hold on a sec… I might’ve just found something.”

He pulled out an old leather-bound journal and began to thumb through the yellowed pages. Dean leaned over to look, too, glancing up at the empty road every few seconds. Most of the journal was filled with names, address, and phone numbers, plus the occasional set of coordinates. The entire journal was clearly ancient. Each page cracked as Sam turned it and the only writing utensil Bobby seemed to have used in it was a faded black pen. But when they reached the last page he’d written on-

SAOIRSE CAMPBELL  
THE NETWORK  
843-555-2908

Next to the name there were thick lines of black ink crossing out something now indecipherable.

“Who’s ‘Saoirse Campbell?’” Dean asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Sam shrugged, frowning, too. “Beats me. You think it’s a Campbell Campbell? Like Mom?”

Dean thought for a moment, then shook his head and turned back to the road. “Doubt it. Either way, let’s just agree to avoid any and all Campbells for the rest of our lives.”

“Amen,” Sam snorted. “But what’s this about a network? Network of what?”

“It’s probably not important. She’s probably just his wi-fi repair person or something,” Dean chuckled. “You know Bobby. He ran solo. I kind of doubt he was ever involved in any sort of network.”

Sam shrugged. “You’re probably right. Still weird, through.”

“Ha! As if that’s much stranger than all the other crazy stuff we’ve seen before,” Dean said sarcastically.

The road was eerily deserted. They had now crossed into the city limits, meaning that it should’ve been busy. Surely there had to be someone on the road, whether it be an old lady on the way home from church or a little league team headed to a weekend game- hell, it was nearly noon on a Sunday afternoon. Speaking of which…

For midday on a November weekend, the weather was strangely poor. They’d been in Missouri before, and knew to expect a hundred degrees one day and forty the next, or a Seattle-esque rainstorm before a six-month long drought. But the strange thing was the fog. It was thick and gray, seemed to stretch from inside the earth itself into the sky, and reached even taller than Sam and Dean combined. Dean had turned on his headlights a few miles back, but now they didn’t seem to make any difference.

“What’s with this fog?” He asked Sam, irritation lacing his voice. “I can’t see a thing.”

Sam was frowning, peering ahead as if he could see through the mass of clouds loads better than his older brother. “Turn here,” he said suddenly.

Dean looked at him like he was nuts. “Where? I can’t even see a road in this weather!” He exclaimed.

“Just trust me,” Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes, then put on his blinker and started to slow down.

Sure enough, just before Dean was about to snap at him for playing a joke on him and keep driving, a road practically materialized before his eyes. All that marked it was a small orange traffic cone where the dusty gravel road turned into pure snow and dirt- unless, of course, you couldn’t see the neon yellow police tape scattered all over the ground.

“Huh,” Dean said curiously. “That’s… convenient, I guess.”

The Impala’s wheel crunched over the gravel one last time before turning onto the rough terrain. Dean could understand how the police wouldn’t have been able to get all the way up there. The gravel road was practically mountainous, all steep hills and narrow paths- way too tricky for an ambulance, that’s for sure. And that was before you even got to the dirt road, which was covered with inconspicuous patches of ice here and there. He considered himself a good driver, but now he had to keep both hands firmly planted on the steering wheel. Sam would never let him live it down if they slid into a ditch or something.

As they went further down the road, even Dean- experienced hunter and literal survivor of hell- began to feel a little creeped out. There was a definite chill in the air, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It could’ve been the fog enveloping the landscape, or the massive pine trees around them, all stretching their spindly branches toward the sky. It could’ve also been the eerie sound of birds cawing in the distance (coupled with the nearly-muted Motörhead cassette still faintly playing on the stereo), or the many red and blue flashing lights now coming into view the closer they got.

“Jesus…” Sam breathed. “That’s a lot of cops.”

“They did say they were considering Satanists. You know how Missourians would react to that. They’re probably trying to prevent the mass hysteria that will break out once people realize the guy wasn’t white,” Dean grinned, eliciting a laugh from his brother.

Sam snorted. “Ah, yes, the occult- what a lovely topic of conversation for Sunday brunch.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, Etienne, read that back to me,” Saoirse said distractedly with the phone to her ear, scribbling a note at the top of her paper. “‘The mark of the wraith will be known by the full moon?’ Well, that sounds pertinent- we need to tell them that. Oh, crap, the full moon’s tonight, isn’t it? Here, pass that along to Delilah. She’s communications, I’m sure she’ll be able to reach them quick. Oh, I’ve gotta go! I’m getting another call.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, tapped a button, and put it back. “Yep? Oh, hey, Rob, what’s going on?” She paused. “Okay, great work. You sure you slipped through their firewall without being detected? Awesome. Keep up the good work.”

She had barely ended the call when her phone rang again. She sighed and glanced down at the caller ID before answering. “What’s up, Rex? Wait, how many stakes did they lose in the fight? Five? How do you even- no, no, it’s fine. Just… if you get a couple spare minutes today, try to find replacements. I’m assigning Sophia and Cohen a vampire hunt when they get back from that poltergeist in Sacramento. Great, thanks.”

Luckily, when she ended the call, her phone stayed silent.

Nina breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank god. I was gonna chuck that phone out the damn window if you didn’t shut up!” She exclaimed.

Saoirse took a bite of a muffin and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that would’ve been the perfect start to our road trip,” she said distractedly, brushing crumbs off her blazer. She was scribbling in two notebooks, one on each knee. In one, she was trying to make a prioritized list of the next hunts she’d assign. In the other, she was trying to assign partners for each hunt. Who knew which- if either- she would finish first.

Her phone dinged with an e-mail, and she went to pick it up, but stopped short at Nina’s glare.

“Put that back, or so help me, I will slap you across the face!” She said.

Saoirse snorted. “Whatever.” But once Nina’s eyes were focused back on the road, she carefully (inconspicuously!) typed out a text in reply to the one she’d just gotten from Bo.

“I saw that, you know,” Nina chuckled.

She groaned. “So close!”

Nina’s smile was thin on her face. “You ever think that maybe you work a little too much?” She said cautiously.

Saoirse frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Nina groaned. “Face it, Saoirse: you’re a human machine, no doubt about it. You’re obsessed with work. And I’m not saying that’s an inherently bad thing,” she hurried to add when Saoirse opened her mouth. “But I just worry about you sometimes. I don’t want you to burn out.”

“I’m not sure if I’d say I’m obsessed with work,” Saoirse said. “You can’t be overly-obsessed with trying to help people.”

Nina shrugged. “You can’t help everybody, dude. It takes everyone a while to realize that, but I think the sooner you do, the better off you’ll be.” Saoirse was silent. “Oh, come on! Lighten up. I could’ve said you were obsessed with your lady friend, now couldn’t I have?”

Saoirse massaged her temples. “Nina, drop it.”

“Hey, all I meant was-”

“Drop it!” She said again, with more force.

Nina threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, but uncomfortably so. Saoirse kept trying to force herself to apologize, but every time she opened her mouth, she just ended up snapping it shut again. Eventually, she mustered up the courage to do it.

“Nina, I –” She began.

“Shut up,” Nina said quietly.

Saoirse swallowed. “No, Nina, I just want to –”

“Just shut up and look, please?” She said, clearly annoyed.

Saoirse frowned and turned her head to look ahead, immediately sucking in a breath. “That’s a lot of cops,” she said.

Nina nodded, biting her lip. “Should we… I don’t know… wait or something?”

She shook her head. “No. We’ve gotta check out this body – it’s now or never. Plus they’ve already noticed us. It’d look suspicious if we suddenly just turned around, and I’m not in the mood for a high-speed police chase before I’ve had my coffee.”

Nina shrugged and pulled off to the side of the road. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Also…” Saoirse tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for being a brat earlier.” She offered a sheepish smile.

Nina paused, then her face split into a wide grin and she pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “You are forgiven.”

“Ugh, gross,” Saoirse complained, wiping off her spit with her sleeve, but she was grinning just as widely.

The rain started just as they stepped out of the car. Saoirse muttered a swear word and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, shoving her phone in her pocket so as to keep it from getting wet. When she slammed the door closed, she turned to find Nina standing with her arms outstretched and her face tilted toward the sky. Her tongue was out to catch the raindrops and there was a gleeful smile on her face.

Saoirse couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

Nina giggled and shook her already drenched hair out of the way. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a cheeky smile.

“Who said it was a compliment?” Saoirse chuckled.

Her friend made a face. “Anyone who thinks that’s an insult is not someone I want to associate with,” she said matter-of-factly, dropping her arms to her side. “We ready to go?”

“Just let me get the badges,” she said. She popped the trunk, lifted a corner of the tarp that covered her hidden stash of weapons- guns, rifles, bullets, knives, wooden stakes (slightly charred over a ceremonial fire and dipped in ox blood)… et cetera- and took out a tiny cardboard box.

The box was old- the edges were worn and softened with age, and the colorful tissue paper glued on top had started to wrinkle, but the glitter and macaroni pieces were holding on alright.

“Nice box,” Nina teased, but Saoirse only gave her a slight smile and ran her hand over the top before opening it. She sifted through old polaroid pictures and ticket stubs from the first Jurassic Park movie, a pressed flower from her prom corsage and the charm bracelet her mother had given her. Her fingers grazed leather. She grabbed the fake FBI badges and quickly closed the box shut.

Handing Nina one, she stowed the box back in the trunk and the other badge in her pocket. “Let’s do this.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief homophobia.

"Jesus, Dean, you think you could play the part a little?” Sam muttered.

Dean took another large bite of his burger with a content sigh, stepping under the yellow police tape. “Sammy, you can’t just deny a man his burger. Society would crumble,” he said sarcastically as they flashed their badges at the police officer standing guard.

“Speaking of society crumbling, some of your people are already here,” the officer said, jerking his head at two women in suits crouched over the body, backs facing them. “Just heard them talking about the tall one’s girlfriend, and I wouldn’t hold out much hope about the other one- she seems more dyke than any I’ve ever seen.”

Sam and Dean both paused, then nodded slowly with matching frowns.

“God, what a prick,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as they walked away.

Sam seemed anxious. “First of all, I agree, but, Dean, secondly, what are we gonna do?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Does it matter? C’mon, Sammy, there’s just two of them. They won’t cause any trouble,” he said quietly. At his brother’s skeptical look, he sighed and continued, “Look, we’ll be fast. We’ll just take some notes and leave. Easy in, easy out, yeah?”

“If you say so,” Sam said finally as they reached the body.

“’Scuse us, ladies,” Dean said smoothly, winking at Sam. “Mind if we have a look for ourselves?”

The taller of the two seemed to freeze, then turned around slowly.

“Sam? Dean?”

Those green eyes. That blonde hair. The heart-shaped face.

“Audrey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've already updated once today, but I was bored out of my mind and I realized that this chapter was super short, so I decided to make today a two-parter, lol. Hope you like it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief flashback of verbal abuse. (John Winchester's A+ parenting)

Audrey opened and closed her mouth once, twice. Dean was the first to speak.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

She stayed silent, staring at him and Sam like she wasn’t quite sure whether they were real.

“What are you doing here, Audrey?” Dean said again angrily. “Answer me!” She flinched, and he glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eyes- he was frozen still.

His sister finally spoke, her voice soft and shaky. “I’m just working a case, Dean. That’s all, I swear.” Her friend put her hand on her shoulder, but he didn’t pay any attention to her. His eyes were fixed on Audrey.

“You’re still hunting?” Sam suddenly asked, sounding surprised.

“And so are you,” Audrey said quietly. Her eyes were downcast. “I’m so sorry, Sammy… you of all people- you never should’ve been forced into this kind of life.”

Dean glared at her. “And you shouldn’t have abandoned us.”

Suddenly, her friend was in his face, shoving him back with unexpected strength and a furious light in her eyes. “You listen here, you little-“

“Nina, stop.” Audrey cut her off mid-sentence, pleading. “Please. He’s right. I deserve it.”

“Saoirse Campbell, you damn well know-!”

Again, Audrey – Saoirse? – interrupted sharply. “I damn well known you’re going to shut your mouth, Nina Sanchez!”

“Nina” did.

“Wait, you’re Saoirse Campbell?” Sam asked. “The name from Bobby’s journal?”

Audrey smiled weakly. “The one and only. But I’ve heard that Bobby is… that he isn’t around anymore,” she said carefully, glancing between the two of them.

Dean didn’t say anything, but gave a short nod. “What’s with the fake name, then?” He asked and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ashamed of being related to us? Or did you just want to make sure we could never find you? Both, probably.”

“Dean, no-”

“You never did care about us, did you?”

“It wasn’t like that! I just-”

“So you ran off to have a perfect little life of your own, far, far away from us. You were all we had, Audrey, and you abandoned us.”

“I didn’t- !”

Nina stepped between the two of them. “Okay, okay, everybody just take a deep breath and settle down for a second,” she whispered. “You may not care, but we’re getting a few looks, and I don’t want to be arrested for impersonating FBI agents, do you?”

Sam butted in. “Yeah, guys. I get that we still need to talk about this, and clearly there’s some hard feelings, but this isn’t the time or place. We need to finish up here, then you can go have your hissy fit somewhere else, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but Nina whacked his chest with the back of her hand. “And if you ever talk to her like that again, you can bet you’re ass will get knocked straight off your high horse and into next week. You, sir, do not scare me.”

With that, she turned on her heel and dragged Audrey off with a huff, leaving Dean and Sam to only stare at their retreating backs.

“Damn,” Sam chuckled a little. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you… you okay, man? You seem a little stumped.”

Dean, who’d been gaping at his sister from a distance, snapped his mouth shut and whirled back to face Sam. “Oh, really, Sam? Gee, I wonder why. It’s not like that sister we used to have – that one that, let me remind you, abandoned us- suddenly showed back up again. No, that’d be nuts!”

Sam frowned. “Look, don’t you think you were a little harsh? Don’t you remember? Dad was never an angel to her, you know,” he said.

“New flash, Sammy – Dad wasn’t an angel to anyone,” Dean snapped. “The expectation was to get used to it.”

“You don’t, do you?” Sam said quietly. “You actually don’t remember. Jesus, Dean, I mean I- you really don’t remember?”

Dean wasn’t in the mood for this guessing game. He glared at his younger brother. “Remember what?”

“Dad… he used to say some pretty awful stuff to Audrey. Call her names, shout those God-awful things at her,” he explained. “I know he wasn’t father of the year for you or me either, but it was different for Audrey. She had some thick skin, sure, but I dunno if anyone could put up with that as long as she did. Later, when I thought back on it, I was never too surprised that she left.”

He did remember, all of a sudden. It was fuzzy at best, but he vaguely remembered Audrey tucking Sammy into bed next to him, giving them both a quick kiss on the cheek, and hearing Dad shout her name from the parking lot of whatever crappy motel they were staying at at the time. He could recall dozens of these incidents: she would sigh and bite her lip, and they could see the fear in her eyes. Sammy would ask if she was alright, and she’d hug him and say she was. But they knew she wasn’t. She’d leave then, step over the salt lines and shut the door quietly behind her, and for the next hour or so they would hear Dad shouting expletives and curses at her.

“Dyke!”

“Worthless!”

“Good-for-nothing!”

They never heard her reply.

And Dean had forgotten.

But now he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Let me remind you what Bobby drilled into our heads the minute that we met him: family don’t end with blood,” Dean muttered. “We don’t need her. I don’t want her, and we don’t need her. Why are we wasting time over this? Let’s just get back to the Impala and go. She and her freaky friend have this covered.”

Sam glared at him. “I can’t believe you. I honestly can’t believe you. You go on and on about family like you’re some sort of perfect family man, then turn your back on your long-lost sister and tell her to take a hike. Why can’t we just give her the benefit of the doubt and let her explain?”

Dean sighed and pinched his nose between his thumb and his middle finger. “Sammy…” He trailed off, then groaned. “Okay, fine. Fine.”

His brother brightened. “Fine?”

“She gets one hour. One hour to talk and we see whether we need her, or she needs us. If we decide otherwise, we tell her to beat it to the curb,” Dean warned.

He turned and walked over to where Audrey and Nina were standing, speaking in hushed tones; Nina was patting her friend on the back and whispering something he couldn’t make out, and Audrey shook her head.

He stopped a few feet away and cleared his throat. “You get an hour.”

Audrey looked confused. “I get a… huh?”

“One hour to talk. Sammy wants to 'catch up' or whatever, and I’d like to hear whatever excuse you can come up with for leaving,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “One hour, then it’s judgement day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Audrey nodded quickly. “Of course. But first… can I ask a tiny favor?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Call me Saoirse.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rain turned into hail. The four of them wrapped their jackets around themselves and covered their heads with their arms as they sprinted from the parking lot into the motel room.

“Damn thing,” Saoirse heard Sam mutter. The whining radiator received a sharp kick, let out a pitiful groan, and died completely.

“A+ engineer skills, Sammy,” Dean said sarcastically. He threw his jacket down one of the two beds and crossed his arms at Saoirse and Nina, who were standing awkwardly by the door. “So.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “Is this gonna be good-cop, bad-cop? ‘Cause if it is, I’m out,” she added to Saoirse.

Saoirse shut her up with a glare and turned back to her brother. “So. What do you want to know?” She asked after a moment, twiddling her thumbs nervously.

Sam spoke up first, before Dean could even open his mouth. “First of all, where have you been? I’m kind of surprised we haven’t run into you at least once in the last ten years, considering all the three of us have been doing is traveling from place to place.”

She smiled a little. “I’ve been all over. Started out at Nina’s house when I first left… I was eighteen, and all I had in my pockets was twenty bucks, a stale sandwich, and a gun with three bullets in the chamber. Didn’t have too many options, you see, so she and her folks were kind enough to let me stay with her for a while,” she said with a grin pointed at Nina, who winked back.

“Wait, you knew each other before?” Dean asked dubiously, anger forgotten for the moment.

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. She was the only friend I’d managed to get at the school we were at that time,” she explained. “And a pretty good one, I’d say. I didn’t tell her about the whole hunting thing, but I sort of had to when I showed up on her doorstep with a pistol in my hand. Ever since, she’s been in on the game, too.”

Dean shrugged. “You still haven’t answered the whole question yet,” he pointed out stiffly.

“I can cover my tracks as well as Dad could, Dean,” Saoirse said with a thin smile. “After we moved on from that town, I think we kept moving – going from place to place and knocking out cases as fast as we could. We just never slowed down. But that pretty much stopped when this one tripped and broke her femur in three places in the middle of a forest during a werewolf hunt,” she said, jabbing her finger in Nina’s direction.

“How’s that play into the story?” Sam asked with a frown.

Nina turned to Saoirse, “Can we trust them?”

She paused, then nodded silently, and Nina continued. “Well, very tall buckaroo, that is what laid the groundwork for the Network.”

“’The Network?’” Dean repeated. “Again, like from Bobby’s journal?”

Saoirse sighed and nodded. “I ran into him a few months after that… gave him the number and such, just in case he was ever in need of our ‘services,’” she added with air quotes and a short chuckle.

“But what is it?” Sam persisted. “You still haven’t explained that part.”

Nina turned to Saoirse. “May I?”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, smiling a little. “Go ahead.”

“Well, the night that I broke my femur – which hurt like a bitch, by the way – we were out there, trapped in the woods with a werewolf on our heels and no possible way of getting out of it. We thought we were done for,” she said dramatically, flopping back on the bed with an arm to her forehead. “Saoirse was practically giving me a piggy-back ride, but that’s rather difficult when you’re holding a shotgun, see. And all we could think was that we never would’ve been in that situation if hunting wasn’t such a lonely life, if there was an easier way to connect with hunters instead of just dialing one of the only numbers on your phone and listening to it ring endlessly. After all, they could easily be even closer to death than you are. Probably are, in fact. Thus, the idea for the Official Network for Hunters United was planted in our young heroine’s mind.” Nina added in a bow for good measure.

This was where Saoirse decided to cut her off. “Basically,” she interjected, “It’s exactly what the name implies. A system – a network – of hunters from all over the country, all working together to cover each other’s asses. It sounds strange, but it’s pretty simple. We have a headquarters in an old office building. That’s where the majority of our time is spent. Of course we started out with just me and Nina, but now we’ve got about fifteen full-time workers, not to mention dozens of allies across North America – even a couple international guys. In theory, our main job is to make hunting as simple as possible. We provide research experts and emergency medical care, plus we have spare hunters on call twenty-four seven in case someone needs back-up.”

“How, though?” Dean asked, throwing his hands in the air. “How is there just some underground network of hunters scattered all over the nation and we haven’t heard a word about it?”

“Dean, you probably know better than just about anyone that even though some hunters are great people, there’s also the… other ones – the ones that will kill anyone and anything for revenge. That’s why we keep the Network a secret, to keep it safe from that kind. The only way anyone finds out about the Network is if they save someone in it. That puts us in their debt, so in return, we tell them about it. But no one can become a full-time member without my approval and a second motion from another full-timer. That’s how we’ve grown so large. Over the last five years, it’s all I’ve been doing – trying to build up our numbers and save more lives.”

Nina glanced at her. “But that’s not why most of the hunters join.”

Saoirse smiled a little. “No, it’s not.”

Sam frowned. “Why, then?”

“Well, like we said, hunting is pretty much the most solitary job out there,” Nina said simply. “You’re usually on your own for your entire life, and you never stop moving or working. ‘Making friends’ was never in the job description. But that’s what makes the Network so great for so many people. It’s a family. You know you’ve always got somewhere to crash, people to go to in case things get tricky or bloody or just plain fucked up. Someone always has your back.”

Saoirse watched Sam and Dean exchange glances, and knew they finally got it. They understood. She was about to let out a sigh of relief, but then –

“So why’d you up and leave?” Dean said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and neither of them looked anything like the scared little boys she tucked in to bed every night for ten years. These weren’t her friends anymore. These men – these hunters – were… they were strangers. Saoirse swallowed.

Her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with some semblance of an excuse, something to make them believe… she’d never wanted to leave. She could feel Nina’s eyes on her. “I don’t know,” she whispered at last, giving into defeat. “There’s no excuse for it, I know, but… it got to be too much. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was a lousy hunter. I wasn’t built for it. I’d known that for a long time, but Dad kept me at it. He was convinced I could do it, encouraged me even. But I gave up. On him. On Mom. On God and the angels and everything else that was supposedly good in the world.” Her voice faded to barely anything. “On myself.”

Dean was staring at her.

Sam was staring at her.

Nina was staring at her.

But she could bet they all had very different reasons for doing so.

Sam cleared his throat and spoke. “You even gave up on us?”

Her head whipped up so fast she nearly saw stars. “No, Sammy, no,” she said firmly. “Never in a million years did I ever give up on either of you.”

“Then why did you leave?” Dean demanded again.

“Dean!” Sam barked.

Jesus, he’s grown up… little Sammy…

“No, no, Sam, it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I don’t have any excuses to make up. I just screwed up, plain and simple. I was a royal fuck up at eighteen years old, and I didn’t think I could handle it anymore. I didn’t deserve either of you, and I knew you’d do fine without me.”

“You were right.”

Saoirse stared at him.

“You are a fuck-up.”

She heard three sharp intakes of breath, and she knew one of them was hers. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as she fumbled for the scrap of paper and pen in her pocket with trembling hands. She tried to take deep breaths and hold back the hot tears she could feel forming in her eyes, but it only just barely worked. She scribbled down her name and phone number, plus the HQ address, and shoved it at Dean – she didn’t even register if he’d taken it or not. She was already out the door, Nina babbling soothing nonsense right behind her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, everything will be alright.”

But that might as well been a whisper compared to what Dean shouted at her back just before the door was slammed behind them:

“You were Mom, and you knew it. And moms don’t leave. Not twice!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some good ol' Cas! (There's gonna be more of him in the next chapter, too.)  
> Enjoy :)

Dean still had his hand clenching the doorknob a minute after he’d slammed it. If looks could kill, with the way his eyes were staring at the door in front of him, Sam expected it would have caught on fire yet by now.

Sam, on the other hand, was still glaring at his brother – and thinking how disappointing it was that looks couldn’t kill.

“What the hell,” he said plainly. He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed Dean’s shoulder. He used the taller-than-my-older-brother privilege and tugged him around so they were glaring into each other’s eyes. “Do you realize what you just did?” He demanded.

Dean huffed. “I can’t believe you’re on her side, Sam,” he groaned, arms crossed over his chest. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve been saying? She left us. By choice. Even she admitted it!”

“I know I said you could throw a hissy-fit, but for god’s sake, Dean. You basically threw a full-on tantrum there,” Sam said, running a hand through his hair. “You know, if there’s one thing I know about Saoirse, it’s that she screws up sometimes. But she’ll guilt-trip herself halfway across the world until you feel bad for her. It’s been _ten years_ , Dean!” Sam stressed. “Don’t you want to know your big sister again?”

Dean stared at him. “You… you called her…” He trailed off.

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Focus, Dean! Look, if she wants to be called Saoirse, her name is Saoirse. Got it?” He said, raising an eyebrow. Slowly, Dean nodded, and Sam sighed in relief. Finally. “Now why is it that you’re so angry? I haven’t seen you this mad since… well, ever.”

Dean jabbed Sam’s chest with his index finger. “Rule number one for being part of my family, Sammy: you don’t leave. You don’t wimp out. Screw up as much as you want, but you’re stuck here. Once you’re out, that’s it. The intentions are clear.”

Sam sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone behind them beat him to it.

“Hello, Dean. Hello, Sam.”

Both brothers whirled around, fists raised and a pistol pointed – Dean had grabbed one off the dresser. But they relaxed when they noticed the familiar trench coat and gravelly voice that always came with Castiel.

“God, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, shoving his gun in the holster at his waist.

Cas stared at him strangely. “I think we’ve made it clear that I neither am nor should be God.”

“Not that, I meant – oh, never mind,” Dean sighed. “Just… what are you doing here, man?”

“I need your help. There’s a ‘hunt’ I think you two should be a part of,” Cas explained. “It would be best if I could take you there now, since I have little idea of how to explain it.” He held out his arm.

Sam and Dean both looked at him nervously, but obeyed; they both gingerly placed a hand on his arm, and instantly felt a sharp tug in their midsection, like someone had grabbed them with a fishing hook and pulled. With their eyes shut, they didn’t see anything, but they could hear the wind roaring in their ears and feel themselves being thrown about. It felt like being in a tornado, simply put.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. Sam and Dean tentatively opened their eyes and found themselves standing in the middle of a forest, still holding on to Castiel like nothing had happened. But they soon realized what the problem was.

“What the hell?” Sam breathed, looking around at the scene.

Dean looked at the angel. “It looks like...”

Castiel shook his head. “This is Annada, Missouri. It is not where you were buried and then appeared after I raised you from perdition. But… there are some noticeable similarities you’ll find.”

That was an understatement. In fact, it’d be rather hard not to find. The trees were horizontal on the ground – not like they’d been uprooted and left there. Their roots were still intact, and the trunks were mostly in the ground, but it was as if some massive gust of wind had blown them so hard they just fell over. They all fanned out away from the three men, and Sam and Dean realized they were standing in a circle of dead yellow grass in the middle of it all.

“I must go now, but I will return shortly,” Cas said to them.

“Cas, no – wait!” They exclaimed, but he had already disappeared with a slight breeze.

Dean was staring at the spot where Cas had disappeared from, but Sam was looking at something else.

“Dean…” He breathed, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Dean, come on. Turn around – you gotta see this.”

Dean turned and sucked in a breath. “Christ…”

They were lying motionless in the circle facing each other, a man and a woman. Their blank, glassy eyes stared at each other, and at first, they didn’t seem like anything special. The man was wearing simple slacks and a dress shirt, the woman a pencil skirt and blouse. If Dean had seen them walking down the street, he would’ve just assumed that they were on their way to a meeting or something. But once you noticed the large outline of wings decorating the ground beneath the man, and the blood-soaked triple-edged sword lying next to the woman, it was obvious that they weren’t just anyone. (Not to mention the gaping, bloody wounds in both of their stomachs.)

Sam and Dean were still staring at the bodies when a second gust of wind hit their backs.

“Castiel!” Saoirse snapped angrily. “You can’t just Apparate people without asking for their permission!”

They turned and found Nina, Saoirse, and Castiel standing behind them.

Nina clucked her tongue, hands on her hips. “Uh-uh, bro. Not cool.”

“I apologize, but this is something that demanded your immediate attention. All of you,” he added as an afterthought. Saoirse hadn’t seemed to notice her brothers until now, but when her eyes met Dean’s, her face hardened.

“Why are we here, Cas?” Sam asked, clearly sensing another fight approaching.

“This,” he said as he gestured to the bodies before them, “is Hadraniel, an angel, and Carmella, a demon. They were found this morning, killed and placed here.”

Nina looked around. “Did they… kill each other, or something?”

Cas looked grave. “Or something, I’m afraid. They were both killed using an angel blade, which kills its victims within a second. It’s no ordinary knife. There would be no possible way for one of them to harm the other after being stabbed.”

“So maybe this Hadraniel dude killed the bitch and then something showed up to stab him?” Dean suggested.

Nina crouched next to Carmella to inspect the wound that had killed her. “Or she had gotten a hold of the blade and killed him before something else came to finish her off, too.”

“Or one something killed both of them,” Saoirse said quietly.

Cas nodded. “There are dozens of possibilities, of course, but I prefer Saoirse’s theory. Angels and demons don’t normally just go picking fights with each other, not unless there’s a real reason. And neither of these were major players in their respective games,” he said, gazing at the two bodies with a plain expression. “I cannot find a single reason for one of them to fight each other.”

Saoirse watched him carefully, sizing him up. “You’re keeping something from us, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “Hadraniel… he was a good angel. We were in different legions, but I have heard of his compassion and mercy from many others. There is no doubt that he was an angel… once.”

“What do you mean ‘once?’” Nina asked slowly.

“There’s a small wound under his shirt collar. It doesn’t look like a cut from an angel blade like the rest of them. There was just something off about it, but I didn’t realize it until now. Whoever… whatever killed them… it took his grace,” Castiel said.

Dean frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine, Dean. There are certainly reasons to want angel grace. Spells, rituals, certain branches of witchcraft, but none that make sense with the demon here, too. Nothing is making sense about this.”

“Why aren’t more angels here? Or demons?” Sam asked, glancing around the fallen forest surrounding them. “Aren’t the demons riled up that one of their own might have gotten killed by an angel, or vice versa? You’d think they would at least want to figure out what really happened.”

“I’m afraid I’m the only one who is suspicious,” Cas told him. “The rest of the angels and the demons are far too busy fighting their own war to worry about a new enemy they don’t even believe is real. But I think that there’s something going on."

“Who – or what– would kill an angel and a demon?” Dean muttered, brows furrowed in thought. “Not to mention take its friggin’ grace.”

Saoirse looked at the ground. “Something that’s not inherently good or bad?”

Nina grimaced. “Those are the most dangerous things – the gray areas.”

Saoirse turned back to Cas. “You still haven’t explained why you took us here, though. Why me, for God’s sake?”

The angel stared into the distance, stormy eyes silently brooding. “Besides the fact that you four are probably the only ones who I could get to believe me, I believe, Sam and Dean, that your knowledge of demons combined with your, Saoirse, knowledge of angels could prove extremely beneficial in this case.”

Saoirse glared at him. “No, Castiel.”

He blinked. “‘No?’”

“You heard me,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m saying no. I think I’ve better things to do than run after some no-name monster that my brothers can handle on their own. How do you plan on making me? By force? If that’s your plan, honey” – she chuckled – “then good luck.”

Castiel sighed. “I will not make you. I only ask that you think seriously about your decision. I do believe this is a very real threat which we need to think about,” he said earnestly.

“Noted,” she said coolly before turning to her friend. “You staying, Nina?”

Nina glanced between her and her brothers, then nodded slowly.

Saoirse nodded back. “In that case, would you be so kind as to return me to my car, Castiel?” She asked sarcastically.

Castiel nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. The next second they were gone with the wind.

Dean stared at the spot they’d vanished from. “How did she know his name?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double-update today! I'm now at my dad's with a stomach bug so I figured I had nothing better to do -_-

Saoirse hummed along to Led Zeppelin as she rolled to a gentle stop in front of her building. The radio crackled slightly with age and had a few static bursts every couple minutes, but – if asked – Saoirse would just say she thought it only added to the car’s character. She fished around in the glove compartment for her gun, then shoved it in her holster.

A flutter of wings, light gust of wind, and the stony silence that followed alerted her to Castiel’s presence in the passenger seat, even though she was staring straight ahead.

Saoirse exhaled. “Why are you here, Castiel?”

“I’m more intelligent that I believe you think me to be,” the angel said in his trademark scratchy voice. “And I know the real reason that you refused to participate in the case.”

She looked at her hands in her lap. “She left that life. You can understand that, right? I can’t just… she doesn’t like talking about it. I can’t go behind her back like that,” she said desperately.

Castiel gave her a small, rare smile. “I understand your dedication to your partner, and it is admirable, I admit. But just because Delilah has abandoned the angels’ way of life – what is it?” He had noticed her flinch.

“Nothing, nothing,” she hastened to say with a sheepish chuckle. “Just… that word. Ugh.”

He watched her carefully. “You did not ‘abandon’ your brothers. You know that, correct? Anyone in your situation–”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Castiel. Thanks, though,” she cut him off quickly, smiling back.

“I would also point out that you have not seen Dean in many years. I have,” he said bluntly. “And he can sometimes be quite… how do you put it? ‘Hot-headed.’ He will come around as time goes on, I’m sure. Although I am not sure you needed to lie about the reason you did end up leaving. They would understand.”

Saoirse looked out the window, watching the moon shining high above the trees. “What were you saying before?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I was simply saying that just because Delilah has, shall we say, left her angel-ness in the past, it doesn’t mean that you can’t handle a case involving the subject. If it’s really ‘meant to be,’ she will not mind,” he said. “I also trust you know that nothing other than a few humans find you… being yourself a problem. The Lord does not bias himself based on sexual orientation, and loves all of His creation as unconditionally as any father.”

She chuckled humorlessly. “Not every father.”

He paused. “I apologize. I only meant-”

“No, no, I understand. I’m sorry, that was really petty,” she said, shaking her head. “Just – thank you, Castiel. That’s really sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Your answer is still no, though?” He asked with an amused glance in her direction.

She laughed. “You know the answer to that, Castiel.”

The angel nodded. “Call if you change your mind, or if I can be of any assistance.”

Before she could even thank him, he had vanished. She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

Saoirse finished up in her car and got out, shutting the door behind her. As she walked up the sidewalk, her backpack was hoisted onto her shoulder and her keys were poking out from between fingers in case someone grabbed her. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and she reached the front door unharmed.

She gave a friendly smile-slash-nod to the guy at the front desk in the lobby and fought the urge to glare at the “out of order” sign hanging on the elevator doors. She walked into the stairwell, groaned briefly at the sight of the many steps she’d have to take before reaching her fifth floor apartment, and began her trek up.

Luckily, her continuing to hum classic rock under her breath – while possibly increasing her risk of an asthma attack – seemed to help the time pass quicker. Soon enough, Saoirse was standing in front of her door.

“It’s me!” She called as she opened the door, hopefully preventing Delilah’s heart attack.

Her girlfriend was lying on the couch, watching television in sweatpants and one of Saoirse’s oldest hoodies. The TV seemed to be playing a “House Hunters” re-run off of Netflix, and Saoirse smiled when she saw it.

“We have a problem,” she chuckled, flopping down next to Delilah, who pulled her knees to her chest to make more room.

“We? Your obsession with real-estate shows is the reason that it’s all on our list on Netflix,” Delilah protested.

Saoirse giggled. “Oh, is that so?”

Delilah leaned in to gently kiss her cheek. “Yeah, pretty much,” she whispered in her ear before pulling away. Saoirse grabbed her hands and pulled her back in for a longer kiss. She felt Delilah’s hands find their way around her waist, and suddenly she was on top of her.

They were giggling uncontrollably against each other’s mouths, fingers wound together and their chests pressed awkwardly close.

“Hey, guess what?” Saoirse said quietly, gazing into her twinkling eyes.

Delilah smiled at her, making her heart flutter. “What?”

Saoirse giggled, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I love you,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, come here, you,” Delilah said with a roll of her eyes and tugged her in close for more.


	11. Chapter 11

“We have officially no ideas,” Nina groaned, flopping back on Sam’s bed.

Dean looked at her, then watched Sam roll his eyes with an amused smile and continue flipping through a thick book covered in dust. _He’s a little flirt, my brother_ , he thought to himself, holding back a laugh. Instead, he asked, “We have some ideas, don’t we? We were just talking about one!”

“As usual, Dean, you evidently weren’t paying attention. We were just talking about Nina’s theory that Ronald McDonald is the culprit,” Sam said without looking up from his book.

Nina gasped and sat up quickly. “Oh my god, no! Guys, I’ve got it! It’s the Loch Ness monster,” she said dramatically.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Oh, come on!” He snorted. “Let’s be serious, though. What do we know?”

“Well, it’s not an angel,” Nina threw out. By now, she was busy braiding Sam’s hair. He didn’t seem to notice – or care.

“Or a demon,” he added.

Dean nodded. “Right. And it had to have gotten its hands on an angel blade somehow,” he pointed out.

“It’s not too hard to steal an angel blade,” Sam said. “I mean, it is, but once you’ve killed an angel, you just have to take its blade.”

Nina shook her head. “Nah, then we’d have more than one dead angel on our hands. Castiel told us there’s been no angel killings in a couple weeks until now. But it could have gotten one a long time ago and bided its time.”

Dean nodded slowly. “That’s a possibility. But then again…” He groaned. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if we had a motive!”

“Why does there have to be a motive?” Nina asked with a shrug. “Couldn’t it be just random, like any hungry monster? Here, hold this, Sam,” she said, handing him a bobby pin.

“No, there’s definitely a motive,” Sam hummed, taking it. “I mean, how much crap have the angels and demons both put us through over the years? They’re a smart bunch, like it or not. Neither of them go down without a fight, so I find it hard to believe that a werewolf or something could take them down.”

“Not a normal monster, then,” Dean said. “Could be something old, though – something we don’t have experience hunting. You know, like god or goddess-y stuff.”

Nina, who had just finished pinning Sam’s finished French braid into place, suddenly gasped. “Reggie!” She shrieked excitedly, making both Sam and Dean jump. She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I got excited there. But Reggie!”

“Who’s Reggie?” Dean asked incredulously.

“He’s the Network’s ancient religions expert. He used to be a professor at Yale, but he quit to come work with us. I know he can help us out on this one! Someone toss me a phone – I’m pretty sure I dropped mine in the Pacific Ocean a week ago. Don’t ask,” she added at Sam’s confused frown, taking the cell phone he handed her.

Sam was still staring at her. “How did you guys get a professor from Yale to just up and quit his job to go work for the Network?”

Nina shrugged, typing in a phone number. “I dunno. Saoirse can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be. I’m putting this on speaker, by the way.”

For a few seconds, all they heard was the dial tone: _brrring, brrring. brrr–_

A tired voice answered, stifling a yawn. “Hello?” (Dean glanced at the clock on the wall and nearly did a double-take – 4:57. He hadn’t realized it was so late.)

“Hey, Reggie!” Nina said cheerfully, toying with a strand of her hair. “How goes it?”

“Nina!” The deep voice exclaimed. “It’s great to hear from ya, kid. Already done with those vamps in Cali, are ya?”

She giggled, rolling over on her back and kicking her legs at Sam playfully; he chuckled and batted them away. “Sure am. But listen, I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

Nina paused, clearly thinking how to ask. “I’m working on a new hunt with Saoirse’s brothers and –”

Reggie cut her off. “Saoirse’s got brothers?”

She rolled her eyes as Sam and Dean exchanged identical glances. “Focus, Reg,” she ordered firmly. “Anyway, I’m workin’ this case with her brothers, and long story short, something’s knocking off angels and demons together. Any connections you can make, Mr. World-Famous Religions Expert?”

They heard him hum over the line. “Something that kills angels and demons? Sounds fishy… I’m thinking something that targets clear-cut opposites – like black and white stuff. Ya know what I mean?” He paused. “But ya know, most stuff from the ancient religions doesn’t interfere with that Judeo-Christian crowd. Way too much drama to deal with.”

Dean snorted to himself. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“The only idea I can come up with off the top of ma head is Hermaphroditus,” Reggie continued. “Greek god of sexuality, opposites, fertility, et cetera. He was Hermes and Aphrodite’s kid, but when he was a teenager, this sea nymph tried to ‘seduce’ him. She got all mad when he rejected her, I guess, and prayed to the gods that they could be together forever. Wish granted, they were fused together and Hermaphroditus was turned into one androgynous being.”

“You think they’re what we’re dealing with, then?” She frowned.

Reggie made a sound of disagreement. “Sorry, kid, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Like I said before: I find it unlikely that some minor to the max god - circa 500 BC – would just suddenly start killing traditionally Christian figures. I suggest ya keep lookin’.”

All three of them sighed.

“Thanks, Reggie,” Nina said, voice muffled by the fact that her head was now pressed into the bedspread.

“Sure thing, Nina. And before ya go, have ya spoken to Saoirse lately?” He asked curiously.

She sat up with a frown. “Earlier today, yeah. How come? Isn’t she there with everybody? She barely ever goes home before ten-thirty.”

Reggie paused, as though he were looking around. “Uh, no, far as I can tell. I’m sure she’s fine, I was just hoping she wasn’t over-working herself like always. Geez, I need to have a talk with that girl. If she doesn’t slow down, she’s gonna burn out!”

“Well, if she’s not there, then she’s probably at home with Delilah. So I guess we should be thankful she’s not at work for once,” Nina remarked.

“Aye, you’re probably right. See ya back here soon, Nina, and be safe!” Reggie added sternly.

Nina chuckled. “Right back at you.” She hung up and tossed the phone back at Sam, who caught it easily and stowed it back in his pocket.

“So Sam and I aren’t the talk of the town at the Network, huh?” Dean said sarcastically. His tone was joking, but if he was being completely honest (for once), he was slightly hurt his older sister hadn’t at least mentioned them.

“I don’t think she’s told anyone about you guys, to be honest,” Nina told them. At least she sounded apologetic. “As far as my knowledge goes, she hasn’t talked about you since she first left.”

Sam was quiet, but Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Real nice,” he said with mock-seriousness, glaring at the ugly purple carpet.

“Hey.”

He looked up and saw Nina glaring at him with cold, dark eyes.

“Don’t you dare try to screw her over. That girl’s saved more lives than you can count, so I’d suggest shutting your mouth, alright?” She finished, raising an eyebrow as though daring him to try.

“Okay, okay,” he said and held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

She flopped back on the pillows with a huff. “Damn straight.”

Sam looked between the two of them carefully, as though one of them might explode at any moment. “So… back to square one, then?”

“Well, not entirely,” Dean pointed out. “We do know what this isn’t. Reggie said that whoever’s doing this probably isn’t some ancient god or something, so we’ve got that out of the way, right?”

His brother sighed. “Leaving thousands of other possibili – ow!” He exclaimed, rubbing the shoulder Nina had just whacked with one of the rock-hard motel pillows. “What the hell was that for?”

“I will not accept that kind of quitter-talk!” She snapped, eliciting laughs from the two men before a shrill ringing in the room interrupted their humor. “Huh? Oh! That’s where I put my phone!” She exclaimed, pulling a cell phone from the front pocket of her backpack and glancing at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Sam asked curiously. He leaned over her shoulder to look, but she instantly pulled away and covered the screen with her hand.

“Uh, no one. Really,” she added at his skeptical look. “J-just my mom.” She chuckled a little, then paused before declining the call and shoving her phone in her pocket.

Nina let out a quiet sigh of relief. Neither of the brothers had seen their older sister’s name on her phone.


	12. Chapter 12

The sun was peeking through the curtains, just barely rising above the horizon and casting a pinkish glow around the room. Saoirse could feel the slightest warmth on her skin, and the need to get up and go to work, but she couldn’t make herself just yet. For once, she decided to give herself a few more minutes and curled back into the cocoon of blankets on the couch.

Eyes still closed, she fumbled for Delilah’s arm to pull her closer. When, after a few seconds, she still couldn’t find it, she frowned and opened her eyes. She wasn’t there.

“Delilah?” Saoirse called out confusedly, sitting up now. “Lils?”

No one answered.

Now concerned, she got up and began to look around for any sign of where her girlfriend might have gone. When she checked the bedroom, the bed was still neatly made from the previous morning. When she checked the kitchen, it didn’t look like anything had been moved. When she glanced out the window, her car was still parked just where she’d left it the night before.

Saoirse retrieved her phone from the living room and scrolled through her unread messages.

Nina: _Hey, S- think I’ll be chilling with S+D til we get some new leads :P Lemme know if u need anything :) Love u!_

Rex: _Got a hold of the new stakes- also who gave Archie permission to sign out 3 hunting rifles??? Didn’t he shoot himself in the ass a couple months ago?_

Fern: _Requested status report: Arrived in DC at approx. 6 PM. Interviewed 4 locals and 1 witness (age 14) before inspecting scene. First guess: poltergeist. Will prob. request back-up within a week._

Nothing from Delilah.

She hurriedly tapped out a text – _Where’d you go, babe?_ – and pressed “send.” When she received no reply after a few minutes, she sent another – _I’m getting worried, D, please call me?_ It, too, went unanswered.

An hour passed, and she’d sent several more texts with no response from Delilah. Saoirse was now sitting on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest and chewing her fingernails anxiously. It wasn’t often that something scared her so much (besides every time she was chased through the woods by a monster or something), so she wasn’t entirely sure was to do about it.

Her first instinct was to call the police, and she instantly laughed. What would she even say? “Hi, my girlfriend, who happens to be an angel of the Lord, might be missing?” They’d probably hang up the second she said “angel.”

She then considered calling the Network, which wasn’t altogether a terrible idea, but she didn’t want to cause a panic. This is a delicate situation, she told herself while forcing her lungs to keep breathing.

“Nina!” She gasped aloud, jumping for her phone and kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner. She hurriedly found her on speed-dial and called, but her friend didn’t pick up. She tried several more times, each with the same result.

“Nina, come on!” She muttered desperately, sending a quick text.

_Delilah’s missing. Call me._

_Not joking- call me now._

_I swear to god Nina if you don’t pick up the goddamn phone right now_

Still, there was no reply, and Saoirse could feel tears start to roll down her face.

She took a shuddering breath and brushed them off with the palm of her hand. “I’m okay,” she whispered shakily. “I’m fine, it’s okay, everything’s alright. Who can I call?” She used a trembling finger to scroll through her contact list, mentally crossing off every name until she reached – 

“Reggie!”

She quickly dialed his number and, as the dial tone played in her ear, she prayed for the first time in ten years.

“Jesus, what’s with everybody callin’ me so early?” Reggie grumbled when he picked up, and Saoirse couldn’t help but let out a sob of relief at the sound of his voice. “Hey, what’s the matter, darlin’? You alright?”

Saoirse buried her face in her knees, took a few seconds to compose herself, and returned to her phone. “I’m okay, Reggie, but I can’t find Delilah. She’s not there, is she?” She asked hopefully, holding her breath.

“No, sorry, Saoirse. It’s just me and a few back-up guys,” he said. He sounded truly apologetic. “Have ya called Nina? She might know.”

“She’s not taking any of my calls,” Saoirse said with a sniffle. “I just… you know this is weird for Delilah. She didn’t leave a note, she’s not picking up when I call, and I can’t find a single reason for her to be gone.”

He “hmm”ed. “Okay… okay, just calm down, right? Ya need to calm down. We’ll figure this out.”

“There’s something else you should know,” she said slowly, gripping the couch cushion until her knuckles were white. She’d been nibbling on the corner of her lip and now felt a drop of blood on her tongue; she swallowed the taste of pennies and iron and continued, “I think this might have something to do with the case I passed on yesterday. I didn’t tell her about it, but it has to do with…”

Reggie made a noise of encouragement. “With what, Saoirse?”

“Angels,” she said shakily.

“What’s that got to do with any of this?”

She covered her mouth to hold back a sob. “She’s one of them, Reggie,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “Delilah – she’s an angel.” Her betrayal felt like a dagger piercing her chest.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean exhaled tiredly and looked over at the bed. Sam and Nina had both passed out nearly an hour ago, and practically on top of each other, too. She had her head on his chest and he had his arm covering one of her legs.

“Geez, thanks, guys,” he muttered exasperatedly. “Way to leave me all the work.” But he knew he wasn’t actually mad at them, simply frustrated at the dead ends he kept running into the more he researched. He’d pulled out every resource he could think of: books, internet searches, even phone calls to hunters he’d only met once, but everything had come up empty.

Now he was flipping through a thick – quite frankly – ancient-looking book that he’d found in a box of Bobby’s. But he wasn’t really looking at any of the words. It had symbols hand-drawn in what was clearly not red ink and words written in languages he would never be able to name, and some of the pages had pressed flowers and leaves stuck to them. It made him wonder whether it was a sort of field journal from long ago, but it wasn’t like he’d find out. Every few pages he would pause and trace the symbols and flowers on them, their once-bright colors faded after years of darkness.

After a few minutes of this, he sighed and closed the book. He briefly rested his forehead against its cool leather cover – briefly because after less than five seconds later, his cell phone started to vibrate in his pocket.

He pulled it out with a yawn and answered the call without even checking Caller ID. “Yeah?” He said shortly. He wasn’t in the mood to screw around.

“Dean! Thank God. Jesus, I was sure you would’ve thrown out this number by now,” Saoirse said with what sounded like a sob of relief.

Dean frowned, anger forgotten within a moment. “Audr- Saoirse?” He corrected automatically, too concerned to care. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He heard her take a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m okay,” she said, a bit more composed. “I’m fine, it’s not me. But Delilah…” She trailed off, as though unsure whether she should continue.

“Girlfriend, I’m assuming?” He guessed.

She let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, um – we can’t find her. No one can, I mean. The whole Network’s been looking for the last few hours and she didn’t leave a note or anything, which is so not Delilah, and I’m just really freaking scared ‘cause Nina’s not picking up when I call her and I didn’t know whether she was with you and Sam or not, like what if she’s missing, too?” she babbled frantically.

“Calm down, sis,” he said slowly, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily. It’d been years since he’d used it, but now it came naturally – like an old friend. “Nina’s sleeping, like, a foot away from me. Take some deep breaths for me, okay? So you can’t find Delilah, and you think she’s missing?”

Saoirse swallowed. “Yeah, pretty much. And there’s one other thing you should know.”

He paused. “And what’s that?”

She chuckled humorlessly. “She’s an angel.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “We’re on our way.”

He quickly hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Not in the mood to shake Sam and Nina awake, he picked up the book and let it fall back to the desk with an ear-splitting thunk!

“I’ll have the curry!” Nina exclaimed sleepily, shooting into a sitting position. Sam also whipped up, eyes blinking blearily around the room until they found Dean, and shot him a glare.

“What the hell was that for?” He demanded, irritated.

Dean threw his coat at him, swiftly zipping up his own. “Saoirse’s girlfriend is missing. I told her we were on our way.” He grabbed the keys to the Impala and motioned for them to follow.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nina muttered with wide eyes, fumbling for her own jacket. She grabbed her backpack and started to hurry after Dean. As they walked, Sam on their heels, she pulled out her phone and seemed to freak out even more. “Oh, crap.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Saoirse hadn’t even turned all the way around at the sound of her best friend’s voice before she was nearly tackled by her tight hug. She laughed weakly into Nina’s shoulder and squeezed her back, reveling in the comfort she brought.

“Are you okay?” Nina gasped, pulling away to look at her face.

She smiled and nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m alright. But, Christ, are you? You look like you slept outside in the snow last night!” She exclaimed, looking at Nina’s bright pink cheeks and freezing cold fingers.

“Don’t worry about me,” Nina said with an eye-roll, finally dropping Saoirse’s hands.

Sam stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You good?” He asked gently with a reassuring smile.

She smiled back a little. “I’m fine,” she said. She noticed Dean trailing behind them, hands shoved deep in his jean pockets and looking at the ground. “Dean–” she began, but cut herself off when he looked up and shook his head, offering her the smallest smile possible. She nodded and smiled back.

“So… this is just Network people, then?” Sam asked as he looked around.

There were about ten other people there besides them. Reggie was standing in the center of the apartment, ordering everyone around as they made stern phone calls, flipped through Delilah’s work logs, and ransacked the apartment for any sign of her that Saoirse might’ve missed. Most of them were men, all wearing jeans, sturdy tennis shoes, and a thick canvas jacket. There were, however, a few women, as well – there was a redhead was rifling through a gun cabinet in addition to another two women, one with blonde hair and the other with an alarming shade of purple, that were both snapping into cell phones with irritated expressions.

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” Saoirse said with an awkward chuckle. “Pretty much everyone’s out on hunts right now, but this is everybody we could come up with.”

She quietly pointed them all out by name, giving brief descriptions of everyone’s expertise: Reggie (obviously), ancient religions; Sophia, combat; Cohen, alchemy; Etienne, languages; Rob, hacking; Andrew, ghosts; Janie, werewolves; Rex, weapons.

Dean glanced around, then turned to his sister. “I’m assuming none of them know who we are?”

She winced. “Er- no, no, they don’t. Sorry,” she hastened to add apologetically.

He held up his hands. “Just asking.”

“So what do we know so far?” Sam asked. Nina held her hand.

Saoirse sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Barely anything. There’s no sign than someone took her, per se, but we can’t find a single reason that she would just leave either. If someone broke in, I would’ve heard it. Hell, I would’ve heard anyone doing anything,” she stressed.

“You still as light a sleeper as you were ten years ago?” Dean asked.

Slowly, she nodded.

“Yeah, she would’ve heard anything,” he confirmed. “Isn’t she an angel, though? Couldn’t she just whoosh away like Cas?”

Saoirse shrugged. “I guess she could, technically, but she hasn’t as long as I’ve known her – and that’s going on seven years. She hates anything angel-y, and always hated that especially. She said it made her feel weird,” she said.

Sam frowned. “And you know she’s an angel how exactly?”

She, Nina, Dean stared at him. “Um, maybe because she told me so? Look, I know it sounds idiotic, but like I said – I’ve known Delilah for seven years now. She’s never lied to me before. Not to mention, Castiel pretty much confirmed it.”

“I did.”

Everyone in the room cried out in surprise at the man suddenly standing between Sam and Dean. A few whipped out knives or guns and pointed them at Castiel suspiciously.

“Hey, hey, stand down!” Saoirse demanded, stepping in front of him. “I know him! He’s an angel.”

"That doesn't exactly ease our worries, Saoirse," Cohen rumbled, flipping off the safety on his hunting rifle.

Saoirse shot him a reproachful glare. "He's on our side, Cohen. Now put the damn gun down, for god's sake," she said.

They all lowered their weapons slowly, unconvinced.

“Thank you, Saoirse,” Castiel said to her calmly. “And I am sorry about Delilah.”

“You don’t know anything about…?” She trailed off hopefully, but he shook his head.

“I am afraid not. But if I do discover anything, you will be the first to know,” he assured her.

Sam interrupted. “So Delilah is an angel? You know for sure?” He asked.

Castiel shrugged. “She must have an angelic aura - I can sense it in this very room. Someone who lives here must have grace within them, and if it's not Saoirse, it must be Delilah. There is nothing to indicate she is not an angel of the Lord,” he said. “Unfortunately, she must not be well-known within Heaven. A minor player, if you will. However…” Sam, Dean, Nina, and Saoirse leaned in. “Never mind.”

They exchanged suspicious glances, but said nothing.

Saoirse opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She stopped in the middle of her sentence and turned to find Reggie standing awkwardly behind her.

“Uh, we’re not findin’ anything very incriminating at the moment, so I’m gonna herd them all back to HQ, if that’s alright with ya,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But don’t worry. We’re gonna find her, Saoirse. I promise ya that.”

She smiled and gave him a swift hug. “Thank you, Reg,” she whispered gratefully. She pulled away and cleared her throat. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do. Same goes for you,” he added with a wave for her companions.

Once the rest of the Network had left, Saoirse led the rest of them back into the apartment to sit down. “What do we do next then?” She asked anxiously, sitting down on the couch. Nina and Castiel sat next to her while her brothers took the remaining chairs.

Castiel looked between Sam and Dean. “Unfortunately I do not expect to gain any of the other angels' support for this case, so we are on our own.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I guess the next step then is to keep researching. There’s got to be something useful in those books, or maybe something we missed at the crime scene,” he said.

“Are we sure that Delilah going missing is even related to the angel and demon that got killed, though?” Nina asked, frowning.

“A demon and angel just turn up murdered right next to each other, then an angel in hiding suddenly disappears?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. “How could they not be related?”

“I must agree with Dean on this one,” Castiel said. “This sort of thing isn’t a normal occurrence. Then again, I suppose, neither is an angel voluntarily going into hiding…” He frowned.

Sam shrugged. “What about Gabriel?”

“Like the archangel? You guys were just hanging out with an archangel?” Nina asked, stunned. “Saoirse, what kind of family do you come from?”

Dean hummed. “So here’s my suggestion: Cas- you poof back to heaven to try to gain a little ‘inside information’ from the angels. See if you can dig up any dirt from in there. Nina, Saoirse, you come back to the motel with me and Sam, and we’ll keep searching for clues down here. Sound good?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Saoirse said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “I’ll be right there. I just need to get Louis. I’ll drop him off at HQ on the way – Rex can take care of him for a few days.” She hurried into her bedroom and couldn’t help but hear the conversation behind her.

“Louis? She has a kid?” Dean hissed to Nina.

Nina giggled. “Not exactly.”

Saoirse returned with the fat, orange tabby cat purring contently in her arms, smiling slightly. “We’re ready.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a short chapter lol the next one will be longer!

The Impala’s engine rumbled the entire car, so no matter how still Dean kept his hands on the wheel, they were always vibrating the slightest bit. Dean could remember the first time he had ever driven this car, the first time he had ever felt his hands shake and his fingers tremble so while they gripped tight to the wheel.

He hadn’t been sixteen, that’s for sure. John Winchesters had never obeyed many laws, and the legal driving age certainly wasn’t going to be the one he started with. He’d only been about thirteen when he first driven the Impala, first dropping Sam off at school and then driving to a supermarket to pickpocket old ladies once the cash supply their father had left them had run low. By the time he was fourteen, he’d tackled the freeway, too, and by fifteen, he was speeding down old country backroads in frantic search of an injured John after a vampire hunt.

“What are you thinking, Dean?” Sam asked, breaking him out of his memories.

Dean cleared his throat gruffly. “Nothing, Sammy. Just… trying to think over the last few days, I guess,” he said.

“A lot’s happened, that’s for damn sure,” Sam agreed. “You seem to be warming up to Saoirse pretty quickly, though.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t think I have much of a choice – not if we’re working a case with her and her flirty little friend.”

Sam frowned. “Nina’s nice,” he protested.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Dean muttered. He continued, louder this time, “Look, I’m just saying that all we’re here to do is solve the case. I’m not gonna have to have a chick-flick relationship with our sister once we’re done. I’m in, I’m out. Everyone forgets each other’s numbers and leaves.”

“Why?” Sam said.

Dean glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“Why don’t you want a relationship with Saoirse? Yeah, she might’ve screwed up when she was a teenager, but I don’t get why that means you won’t even spare her a second glance,” Sam said incredulously. “Don’t try to pretend like you were a flawless teenager.” 

“But I never _left_ ,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “You can do all the messed up crap you want, but you don’t _leave_. That’s not what family does.”

Sam sighed. “You’ve got backwards logic, Dean. You can do whatever messed up crap you want, even leave – I don’t care. But it’s _because we’re family_ that I’m choosing to forgive her,” he said solemnly.

They stopped speaking then, and Dean was left to grip the wheel tighter, relishing in the vibrating leather under his hands that brought him so much comfort. Nearly an hour passed like that, and it wasn’t until as they were pulling into the motel parking lot that his brother finally spoke.

“Are you sure about this case, though?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrow at Dean.

Dean exhaled and waited until he’d carefully pulled into a parking space to speak. “Geez, I don’t know, Sammy. Are you?” He looked over at him.

Sam shrugged. “I want to be – really, I do. And it’s not because she’s our sister,” he added. “It’s just… we’ve never met Delilah. This is uncharted territory for us, and we have exactly zero clues about what actually happened to her. Like I said before, I forgive Saoirse for everything she did ten years ago, but that doesn’t mean I can trust her word one hundred percent.”

“At this point, it’s not a case anymore. This is our sister asking for help,” Dean said slowly. “And I guess I’m giving it.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I’m on the highway to hell,” Nina sang under her breath. “On the highway to hell.” As she hummed along to AC/DC, she kept stealing worried glances at Saoirse, who was sitting quietly in the passenger seat with her head resting against the cool glass.

After a few minutes of this, Saoirse decided to intervene. “You know, nothing’s gonna change the more you look at me,” she joked tiredly.

Nina sighed and reached over to turn down the radio, warm brown eyes fixed on the road. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, you know, with the whole Delilah thing–”

“Don’t,” Saoirse cut her off. Nina looked over at her, eyebrows knit together in concern. “I’m sorry, but please… just don’t.”

Nina opened her mouth, then shut it again with a resigned nod.

Luckily it wasn’t storming quite as bad as it had in the days previous. The sky was a light shade of gray, a bit overcast, but Saoirse could see the outline of the sun behind the clouds and hoped that it might come out for a while. _It’s been too long without sun,_ she thought dismally.

Nina continued to sing along to the classic rock tapes Saoirse kept in the glove compartment, Saoirse felt herself begin to fall asleep, being lulled to sleep by the familiar rumble of the Mustang’s engine. At first, she tried to fight it and stay awake, but soon abandoned that approach and allowed herself to drift off while Nina drove.

The dream started off like any other – normally. She found herself sitting in her own kitchen, sipping coffee as she scribbled notes in her journal about some monster or another. It was all like a normal day for her, in fact, so she didn’t realize it was a dream until Delilah walked in.

She heard her footsteps behind her, trudging in with her usual gait. At first, she assumed it was from her usual reluctance to get up and go to work, but realized that probably wasn’t true when Delilah suddenly stopped in her tracks and said nothing.

She frowned and turned around. “Babe, are you – what the hell?!” She gasped, grabbing her knife from the table. Delilah was indeed standing before her, but it wasn’t… Delilah. Her dark skin was darkened even more by the copper-colored patches of blood spattered all over her body. Some was dried, but others were fresh, still dripping dark red blood into a puddle on the clean tile floor. Her grin were stained with red, too, like a vampire with no fangs, and her eyes were a gleaming color of black.

“Who- no, what are you?” Saoirse demanded through gritted teeth, holding the knife up in a defensive position. “What have you done with her?”

Delilah let out a cold, cackling laugh that chilled Saoirse to the bone. Her smile widened further to reveal even more blood-stained teeth. “Oh, sweetie, can’t you tell? I _am_ her,” she said coyly.

“You are not!” Saoirse snapped, but her own confidence was waning. It did look like Delilah, at least. The eyes might’ve been all wrong, and the skin too bloody and smeared with death to be her girlfriend’s, but it was her build, her face, her hair… her everything.

“See, even you aren’t positive,” Delilah crooned. She raised her voice a bit higher, and put on a concerned tone eerily similar to the real Delilah’s – her Delilah’s. “Are you feeling okay, Saoirse?” She asked, putting on a pout. “I don’t like it when you point that knife at me like that.”

Saoirse’s eyes filled with tears and she squeezed them shut, the knife clattering to the floor as her hands went to cover her ears. “No, you’re not – you can’t be,” she sobbed, sinking to her knees. “You aren’t her. Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up..

Even though her ears were covered, she still heard Delilah’s cool reply. “Oh, you’re no fun, you little brat.”

“Saoirse, wake up!”

She flew up, nearly banging her head against Nina’s as she shook her awake. “Sorry!” She said hastily, her face turning pink when she reached up and found tears on her cheeks.

“Jesus, don’t be sorry,” Nina frowned as she slowly removed her hands from Saoirse’s shoulders. “Are you okay, though?”

Saoirse gulped and nodded quickly, forcing as strong a smile as she could (which was still not very strong at all). “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. Just a bad dream.”

Nina shot her a skeptical look. “Didn’t sound like just a bad dream.”

She avoided the underlying question in Nina’s response by looking around at where they were. Nina had parked in a motel parking lot, it seemed, but it was fairly nice (compared to some of the ones she’d been in before). The dumpster was a sufficient distance away from the door, and there were even a few trees planted here and there, like someone had tried to make it look nice and then gave up. One look out the window told her that Sam and Dean were already there. The Impala was parked neatly beside them.

“Here,” Nina said, handing over her cell phone. “It was ringing a few minute ago, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Saoirse accepted it gratefully and checked her missed calls, noting the most recent one – from Reggie. She quickly re-dialed and, as she listened to the dial tone, motioned for Nina to head in without her.

_You sure?_ Nina mouthed with a frown.

She nodded and waved her out, smiling as best she could. The door shut behind Nina just as Reggie picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Reg,” Saoirse sighed tiredly, running a hand through her hand.

“Oh, hey, Saoirse,” Reggie greeted. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t bother ya earlier.”

She shook her head and massaged her temples to stop the throbbing in her forehead. “No, no, you didn’t. Sorry I didn’t pick up. I just fell asleep for a few minutes there,” she chuckled.

“Are ya okay, kid? Ya sound like you’re getting sick,” he informed her matter-of-factly.

She groaned and laid down across the front seat, kicking lightly at the steering wheel with her foot. “’m not sick. That much I know. Anyway, why were you calling before?”

“I was just wondering how ya were doin’,” Reggie said simply. She could hear voices on the other end of the line, whispers and murmurs as well as a few shouts, then Reggie muttering at them to shut up.

“Well, we only just got back to Sam and Dean’s motel, so we haven’t really gotten the chance to do much research,” Saoirse frowned. “At the moment, Castiel seems to have a few ideas he’s not letting on yet. I still don’t think it’s an angel or a demon, though. Something in between, you know? I’ll tell you, though, as soon as we figure out anything.”

Reggie sighed. “I mean, how _you’re_ doing, Saoirse. Are ya okay? I know this has gotta be hard on ya…” He trailed off awkwardly.

She stared at the ceiling. “Reggie, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Saoirse –”

She hung up and sat up, brushing away some stray tears she hadn’t yet noticed. _It’s gotta be hard? _She thought angrily, aiming a sharp kick at the steering wheel. _No, this hurts like a bitch.___


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First day of school and I'm already posting fanfiction during study hall XD

“So we’re sure it’s not Hermaphroditus?” Saoirse asked from her position on the bed. She was lying on her stomach with a thick book and a notebook covered in scribbles in front of her. She tapped her pen against the page in time to the Guns N’ Roses music Dean had insisted on playing on Sam’s laptop.

Sam shrugged. He was sitting on the floor between the two beds, back resting against one and his feet propped against the second. How he managed to do that with a height reaching well over six feet, she wasn’t sure, but she was suitably impressed. “Well, we’re not positive, but Reggie certainly sounded like was. And I kind of agree.”

“Ditto,” Dean called from the desk chair, which he was spinning around in in lazily circles, an open bag of chips in his lap. “I mean, who’s ever heard of some random Greek god going up against demons?”

“Or angels,” Nina agreed through a mouthful of potato chips she’d snagged from Dean.

“Yeah, how do you know so much about angels, anyway?” Sam grinned up at Saoirse. “Was it just ‘cause of Delilah or what?”

She laughed and pushed his long hair out of his face. “Oh, we could write a book on all the crap we’ve gone through with angels,” she said with a smirk at Nina.

“The climax of which would be our pretending to be prostitutes to get more information about one of the factions,” Nina responded dryly.

Saoirse blushed as Sam and Dean both burst into laughter. “Oh, I would _kill_ to see you two dressed up as hookers!” Dean exclaimed. “How did pretending to be sex workers help you find out stuff about angels, though?”

“Hey, maybe angels don’t need to eat or drink or whatever when they’re in a vessel, but depending on how good of terms they and the human are on, they’ve still got needs!” Saoirse explained with a giggle.

“How’d you even get involved with the angels?” Dean asked, smirking suspiciously.

Saoirse shot him a sly look. “You gonna tell me how you two got involved with demons?”

Sam snorted. “You got a whole week to spare?” He asked sarcastically.

“Exactly my point,” she said with a nod to Nina. “Some things are just too much to share. All I’m gonna say about angels, though, is that they’re all dicks, minus a select few.”

Dean chuckled. “Isn’t that takin it a little bit far? I mean, we haven’t had the best experiences with angels so far, but what about Cas?” He asked.

“I know. He’s the select few,” Saoirse said bluntly.

Nina butted in. “You might think we’re exaggerating here, but they’re basically demons without the creepy eyes and bad rep. They got street cred, plain and simple, ‘specially with the man upstairs,” she added, jabbing a finger at the ceiling.

“You really think there is a guy upstairs, though?” Dean asked skeptically. “I mean, I know the angels says so, but does their word really count for much anymore?”

Nina chuckled. “It shouldn’t, in my opinion, but unfortunately it does. I’ve seen demons who talk about a god – the God – and when they and the angels agree on something, you know it’s probably gonna be true.”

“Fair point,” Sam remarked. “Anyway! We should be getting back to work.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” Nina exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. She snapped her fingers at Saoirse. “Hey, you – keys, please.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes, but still dug in her pocket for her keys and chucked them at Nina, who caught them easily. “Sure thing, dude. Where is Her Majesty going this time, huh?”

“Panera's” Nina said as though this was blatantly obvious information. “Only the best for hunters hard at work.”

Sam snorted. “Oh, so you aren’t getting yourself anything?”

“Ooh, burn!” Saoirse giggled, leaning over to high-five her little brother.

Nina stuck her tongue out at them. “Yeah, har dee har har. Don’t worry, I’ll forgive you this time so you get a frozen mocha,” she called on her way out.

“Thanks, love you, too!” Saoirse shouted back with a grin. When she turned back around, Sam and Dean were watching her with identical strange looks. “What?”

“Frozen mocha?” Dean repeated slowly. “What the hell is a frozen mocha?”

Saoirse gasped, feigning shock. “Only the most delicious thing you’ll ever have the privilege to taste. A rich blend of coffee, chocolate, and whipped cream, all for the deliciously affordable price of four twenty-nine,” she added with a grin.

“You’re such a girl,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Come on, now, back to work. Let’s just figure out what ideas we’ve got.”

“The perfect opportunity to make a chart!” Sam exclaimed, sounding excited. “Toss me a pen, Saoirse.” His sister was able to hide her amused smile behind her hand as she threw a marker at him, but Dean wasn’t as subtle.

“A chart?” Dean exclaimed incredulously. “Dude, could you be more gay?” Saoirse looked over at him with a smirk, and he blushed a little. “Sorry, sis.”

“Come on, don’t tease Sammy,” she chided.

Sam finished outlining a chart on a scrap of paper and looked up at his older siblings. “So… any ideas?”

"Well, if we’re talking about demons, it could be some kind of soul deal gone terribly wrong. We’ve seen stranger things happen with those,” Dean said. Sam scribbled it down.

“You know, this could even be simpler than that,” Saoirse said thoughtfully. “I mean, who’s to say this isn’t just some hunter that’s gone off the deep end and decided to make all his personal grudges with the angels and demons public? Revenge is a bitch, and it can mess some people up real bad.”

Dean shrugged as Sam wrote it down, too. “True. Though that doesn’t explain how they’d be able to get an angel and a demon in one spot to execute both of them in front of the other.”

“We’re also sure this isn’t to do with another apocalypse?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

“ _’Another apocalypse?’_ ” Saoirse asked incredulously, eyes widened.

Dean ignored her. “I doubt it. With Michael and Lucifer in the cage, plus the angels still on high-alert after that whole mess, there’s no way it’s another Armageddon.”

Saoirse cleared her throat. “Um, I’m just gonna repeat myself ‘cause I don’t think anyone heard me. _‘Another_ apocalypse?’” She stressed.

Her younger brothers chuckled at her expression. “Another long story for another day,” Sam said. “Don’t worry. We took care of it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why does that not reassure me at all?” She said sarcastically.

There was a short lull in the conversation while Sam continued to scribble down their suggestions and Saoirse flipped absently through the book before her, leaving Dean to look around awkwardly. Usually, he would have something in his hands… a cassette tape, a beer bottle, a shotgun – _some_ thing! But with nothing in front of him, he was forced to fold his hands in an uncomfortable position and stare out the window while Sam and Saoirse kept working. Maybe that was somewhat productive, though, or hopeful in some way, since an idea suddenly came to his mind.

“You know, there are people we can talk to about this,” he said simply.

His brother and sister merely glanced up at him. “What was that, Dean?” Saoirse asked distractedly, not tearing her eyes away from the book.

“We could always summon a demon for a little more information,” he shrugged.

Sam’s hand whipped up so fast that it was a wonder Dean didn’t see stars for himself just by watching him. “Summon a demon?” He asked. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. “Dean, how many times have we –?”

“Multiple, and it never goes well,” Dean answered dryly. “I get it, Sammy, but this could turn out okay!”

"Okay?!” Sam exclaimed angrily. “Okay? When has anything involving summoning a demon on purpose ever turned out ‘okay?’ One of us always dies, then the other sacrifices himself or something, and then the other people start to die because of it. It’ll all end up going horribly wrong, no matter what.”

Dean groaned. “Okay, fine, geez. I was just trying to help,” he muttered. Saoirse wasn’t sure whether Sam had heard him, but she had, so she shot Dean a reassuring smile that he tried to return.

“I don’t know much about demons, Dean, but I kinda have to agree with Sam. It sounds too iffy. I sure as hell want my girlfriend back, but I’m not risking your guys’ lives on top of hers. I appreciate the suggestion, though,” she said.

“Promise me you’re not gonna do this, Dean,” Sam said firmly. When Dean began to protest, Sam cut him off with a stern shake of his head. “No, I don’t care what you say. I want a witnessed promise that you’re not going to summon a demon.”

Dean sighed. “Okay, okay, I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

In her defense, Saoirse didn’t do anything. Hell, all she'd been doing was sleeping.

She’d been floating between sleep and consciousness for a while now, but finally felt herself begin to really drift off. Just as she closed her eyes all the way, however, there was a squeak on the carpet by the door.

Saoirse’s eyes snapped open. She looked over at Nina, who was still peacefully snoring in her bed. _God, she doesn’t wake up for anything,_ she cursed under her breath. She glanced at the silver knife sitting on the nightstand, then at the gun on top of Nina’s duffel bag. After briefly wondering which she could grab faster, plus which could do more damage, but then realized that it didn’t matter much if she was dead before she could even try to defend herself.

The floor creaked once more, closer this time – it was going towards her bed. She took a silent deep breath and gave herself to the count of three to jump out and fight back.

1… 2… 3–

A strong hand was clapped over her mouth. Immediately she started to struggle, attempting to wrestle her unseen attacker away, but she didn’t get very far. His – it felt like a man’s, rough and large – other hand grabbed her forearm and pushed her down so she was lying on her stomach. The mattress was pressing into her chest uncomfortably, but she knew she might be hurt far worse in a few short moments. He was strong.

“I’m taking my hand away,” he muttered softly. “Don’t scream.”

Saoirse nodded, intending to do just that as the hand slowly pulled away from her face. She took a breath, about to yell, but the hand clapped back over her mouth.

“What did I just say?” He hissed. But this time, the voice sounded familiar…

“Dean!” She gasped, shoving his hand away.

He rolled his eyes. “Duh!”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell was that for? What, are you trying to kidnap me?” She demanded in a fierce whisper, careful not to wake Nina.

Dean ignored her. “Come on,” he motioned for her to follow. Without waiting for her, he walked out, leaving Saoirse staring at him. She broke herself out of her thoughts and hurried after him, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him.

“What are we doing?” Saoirse asked as she was led out into the cold, wet weather. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t annoyed. After all, she was only wearing thin sweatpants and a ratty green t-shirt from one of the many high schools she’d attended as a teenager (Go, Tigers, Go!). Her bare feet tingled with cold on the wet asphalt, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

“We may or may not be summoning a demon,” he said shortly, grabbing her hand and leading her around the back of the hotel.

“We’re what?!” She yelped, and yanked her hand away, cradling it like she’d been burned. “Dean! What the hell?”

He stared at her blankly. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t just practically abduct someone from their own bed in the middle of the night, inform them that you want to summon a demon with them, and expect it to all go swimmingly from there!” she said in exasperation. “What about the promise you made to Sam earlier tonight? Does that mean absolutely nothing to you? You just go breaking these sorts of promises often?”

“Once or twice, yeah,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. At her irritated expression, he groaned. “Yes, Saoirse. More often than I’d like to admit, in fact. Sam and I both! But hey, don’t worry. Didn’t you hear Castiel earlier? We’re the demon experts.”

“What reason could you ever find to do something this idiotic?” She asked incredulously.

He sighed. “Maybe when my big sister’s girlfriend gets kidnapped? Come on, Saoirse, it’s fine. I’ve done this plenty of times before – not to mention I’m practically best friends with the freaking King of Hell. Don’t ask,” he said again at her expression.

Saoirse paused, biting her lip. After a moment of deep consideration, she looked up. Her eyes were filled with determination. “Let’s do it.”

He chuckled and motioned for her to follow him. They walked alongside the back of the motel and continued down the road for just a minute or two, until they reached a deserted intersection. Their footsteps echoed as his shoes and her bare feet slapped against the asphalt. It was pitch black out; the only light came from the waning moon overhead, plus a single blinking stoplight that looked like it had seen better days.

It was eerie in its own way, Saoirse decided. Although they weren’t exactly in the ‘boondocks’ or anything, it was still secluded enough. There were a few houses in the distance, all with darkened windows and dim porch lights; even from far away, she could see the moths buzzing around them. The only other buildings nearby were the motel and a gas station, whose prehistoric neon sign, once reading “GAS-N-SIP”, now proclaimed, “ AS- -S.”

“So… how do we do this?” Saoirse asked, shivering a little. She wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold anymore.

“Summon a demon, you mean?” Dean grinned at her. He pulled a little box out of his pocket and waved it in her face. “Well, all you need is one of these!”

“What’s in it?” She said curiously as she watched him remove the lid and carefully position it in the center of the intersection.

He thought briefly. “Dirt from a graveyard and the hipbone of a black cat,” he said, ticking the items off on his fingers as he listed them.

“The hipbone of a… you know what? Never mind,” she sighed. “I’m just going to ignore that you said that.”

Dean stood back up and looked around, as though he were expecting a demon to just come walking up. “Huh… that’s strange. They usually just – oh! I remember what I forgot. You gotta have a picture of yourself with it.” He started to fumble around in his pockets for a photo. “Here, hold this.” He handed her his wallet.

“Dean Winchester!”

Saoirse jumped.

“Crap,” Dean groaned, turning around. His sister followed suit, cringing as she watched her youngest brother striding towards them angrily with Nina trailing behind him.

“How’s it going, Sammy?” Dean asked, feigning innocence. Saoirse whacked his arm with an irritated roll of her eyes.

Sam only glared at him. “‘How’s it going?’ Did you really just ask me how it’s going?” He asked incredulously. “I wake up at three in the freaking morning to find your bed empty and assume that you have been abducted by the King of Hell or some other freak with you on their hit list! Lo and behold, you’re just out here, trying to summon a demon that won’t do anything for us besides possibly murdering one of us.”

Saoirse turned to Dean with a frown. “I thought you said you and the King of Hell were best friends,” she said.

He waved it off. “Love-hate relationship. It’s complicated.”

“And you!” Sam turned on her. “Jesus, I know you don’t have a load of experience with demons, but I thought at least you would have enough sense to stop him instead of joining in on the fun. Come on. We’re going back to the motel.”

“But…” Saoirse and Dean began, but Sam cut both of them off with a fierce glare. She sighed. “Fine.”

Dean and Nina began to follow after him, but just as Saoirse lifted her foot to take her foot step, she stumbled and fell to the ground, throwing her arms out to catch herself. “Ow! Crap,” she groaned, feeling one of her palms burning after scraping roughly against the street. For some reason, though, the other palm was fine…

Oh.

She’d still been holding Dean’s wallet in that palm, and had fallen in such a way that the wallet ended up falling into the box.

She hauled herself up, brushing off her sweatpants with a muttered expletive (or two).

“You okay, Saoirse?” Sam called.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she shook herself off. “I just –”

“Dean Winchester. What a pleasant surprise.”

The four of them turned and stared at the woman now strolling up the street in a short black dress, high heels, and fishnet tights. Her hair was the color of copper, tousled in messy curls and framing a heart-shaped face. Though her makeup was slightly smudged and her eyes were redder than blood, it did not detract from her appearance.

Saoirse stared at her with wide eyes, chancing a swift glance at Sam. His anger now forgotten, he, too, stared at the demon with Dean and Nina.

Dean was the first to speak. “Oh, yeah? Why so pleasant?” He sneered.

“Face it, honey,” she purred, looking Dean up and down with a sultry smile. “You’re always high on everyone’s wish list.”

“If he’s so high on your wish list, then maybe you’ll answer a few questions for us,” Sam butted in, his jaw set. Saoirse could see the vein at his temple.

The demon chuckled, twirling a strand of hair around a neatly-painted red fingernail. “Well, I never said he was that pleasant. But I will answer a question or two for a price,” she added coolly.

“Deal.” Dean said immediately.

“Dean!” Sam gaped at him.

The demon smirked. “Excellent. We’ll discuss payment in a moment. First, allow me to answer your questions.”

Sam glanced between the four of them, looking unsure. “Well, first of all… is a demon involved in the disappearance of the angel Delilah?”

“An angel named Delilah…?” The demon frowned, sounding legitimately confused. “Never heard of her. Although, I do know a – AAAAAHHHHHH!!!” She let out a blood-curdling scream into the night, and the four humans leapt back in fright as they saw the blood soaked sword protruding from her stomach. She flashed with orange light a few times and then crumpled to the ground, dead eyes wide open.

Where she was standing there now stood a short man with a beard and a sharp black suit. If asked, Saoirse would’ve pegged him as the owner of a trendy salon, or maybe a worker at the Lancôme counter. He flicked the blood off his sword with a faint look of disgust, then looked up at them. When he saw Sam and Dean, his face turned to a smile – the kind you see on a child’s face when his parent leaves the room. Plotting, Saoirse thought.

“Hello, boys.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” The man chuckled, looking at Saoirse. “Who’s this little pet?”

Sam and Dean both looked furious. “Crowley,” Dean ground out. “Don’t talk about her.”

‘Crowley’ was still smirking. “Oh, boys. I did touch a nerve there, didn’t I?” He teased.

“Wait, who is this guy?” Nina asked incredulously, looking him up and down with a sour expression.

“Meet Crowley- King of Hell,” Dean said, crinkling his nose at the name.

Saoirse and Nina exchanged wide-eyes glances before their eyes went back to Crowley. “This,” Saoirse said slowly, “is the King of Hell?”

“Impressed already, darlings?” Crowley asked with a smug smile.

Saoirse frowned. “Um, not my type,” she said.

“Not my height,” Nina wrinkled her nose.

Dean took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Crowley, this is Nina and Saoirse. She’s our older sister.”

The demon’s eyes widened slightly, but he then smiled, took Saoirse’s hand, and pressed a kiss to it. “ _A jon te,_ my dear,” he murmured. Saoirse pulled it away with a shudder, holding her hand close to her chest to protect it. “Does anyone call you Shay, by chance?”

She gave him a look, silently daring him to try. “Not twice.”

Crowley gave a slow whistle. “I see where Dean gets it from,” he said with a smirk.

Dean groaned. “Enough with the flirting and the fancy talk,” he snapped. “Yes or no – do the demons have any clue what’s going on?”

Crowley sighed dramatically. “Dean, you’re pushing my buttons, but… unfortunately, no. The demons are as clueless as you – a whole new low,” he added with a sneer.

“Then why,” Sam said, massaging his temples, “are you still here?”

“Tsk, tsk, Sam. Don’t test me of all people,” Crowley clucked his tongue, but with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Nina was staring at the spot where he’d just been standing a moment ago. “Did – did he have to snap his fingers like that to leave or…?”

Sam shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “No, he didn’t. And, if no one minds me changing the subject, Dean! What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve gotten all of us killed!”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know Crowley would show up?” Dean protested.

“It’s not Crowley that worried me, Dean!” Sam exclaimed angrily. “We’ve worked with him before. I knew he wasn’t going to up and murder us all of a sudden. Probably at least. But summoning a random demon just to ask questions about a case? That’s suicide! You know how many demons would kill to have your head on a plate. Hell, she even confirmed it. Now she’s gonna go running back to her demon friends and tell all of them where we are!”

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “Calm down, Sammy. Jesus. We’re perfectly safe.”

A shrill ringing made the two of them break out of their argument and look over at Nina and Saoirse. Nina pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, staring at the screen briefly before answering.

“Um, hello?” She listened for a little bit, nodding at times and “hm”ing at others. Finally, she pulled the phone away from her ear and handed it to Saoirse. “It’s for you.”

Saoirse frowned, but accepted the phone anyway. “Hello?”

“Thank goodness!” Reggie sighed. “You weren’t picking up on your cell phone, so I had to try Nina’s. Anyway, I’ve got more bodies for you – three of ‘em. Don’t worry, though, I texted Nina the coordinates.”

“Er, okay. But why didn’t Nat call about the bodies?” Saoirse asked, shivering in the cold. Her teeth had begun to chatter.

Reggie paused. “He’s one of them.”


	20. Chapter 20

The next crime scene was as remote as the other, on an old abandoned farm way out in The Middle of Nowhere, Illinois. Luckily, it was discovered by a hunter on his way back from a wendigo hunt instead of some regular person who would have called the cops. They still had to be fast, though, in case anyone saw the large group of mysterious people milling around three dead bodies. No one had a clue what they’d say if the police caught them.

The Impala rolled over the grass, jostling its passengers inside, but no one complained. Sam and Dean were sitting in the front seat, quietly looking out the window at the members of the Network who were already there and inspecting the bodies. Saoirse and Nina sat in the backseat, hugging each other loosely.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Nina asked her gently as she pulled away.

Saoirse gave her a weak smile. “I have to be,” she said in a calm, steady voice that surprised even her.

“You don’t,” Nina said. “Everyone’s upset. It’s okay to not be okay today.”

“Don’t tell me that. I might actually start to believe it,” Saoirse muttered.

Dean cleared his throat as he put the car in park behind a few other cars. “Are we ready? We don’t need the badges or anything?” He asked.

As Saoirse climbed out of her side, she heard Nina chuckle at Dean’s question. “Network crime scenes are a little different, Dean. Sorry, but you’re not gonna be able to fool anyone here.”

There was a steep muddy hill to hike up before they reached the scene, but luckily Saoirse had thought to put on sneakers. Her shoes still squelched and sunk in the wet brown earth every time she took another step, and mud was soon smeared across the bottom of her jeans, but she was able to reach the top of the hill with minimal trouble, minus a slight burning in her lungs and panting that didn’t go away entirely for a few minutes.

When they reached the top, the atmosphere didn’t change; if anything, it was worse. There were at least two dozen people there. It seemed every hunter contact they had on their books had dropped everything when they heard the news and came to find out what was going on. They were all walking around aimlessly with red, puffy eyes, as though no one was quite sure what to do. The three bodies were lying in the middle of everything, but everyone was purposely adding room between them and themselves. There were two bodies Saoirse didn’t recognize, but someone had placed a jacket over the third’s face. Nat.

When the people noticed her standing there, staring at all of them, everyone froze and looked at her.

Saoirse’s mouth went dry. She glanced at Nina, who was looking at the bodies, then Sam and Dean, who were looking at the ground. She took a deep breath and faced the crowd.

“Everyone go home,” she said in a loud, clear voice.

They stared at her strangely, as though unsure whether she was being serious.

“You heard me. Go home – not headquarters. Home,” she repeated firmly. “Take the day off. Nina, my brothers, and I can handle this from here. We lost someone today; not an intern, or a co-worker, or a hunter. We lost a friend – we lost part of our family. And I promise you we will find out who did it. But now you deserve a few days to recuperate, gather your senses, and spend time with the people closest to you. Keep your phones on, and be ready to go on a moment’s notice, but take today off and remember Nat for everything he was.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until she finished, when there were suddenly tears on her cheeks and everyone else’s.

One by one, they all shook themselves out of their frozen states and started towards their cars, most offering her a weak, grateful smile as they passed. Reggie didn’t look her in the eye as he patted her gently on the back. She frowned and turned to call to him, but he was already halfway down the hill.

“That was nice of you,” Dean told her with a small smile.

She smiled back as best she could, then turned to Sam and Nina, too. “Come on, you guys. We gotta look at these bodies.”

As car doors were slammed and tires rolled away, crunching over gravel, they crouched next to the three bodies. It was three men, lined up perfectly straight next to each other.

Sam cleared his throat and pointed at the covered body. “So we know that this one is Nat, but what about the others?”

Nina and Saoirse were already trying to figure that one out, digging through their pockets and flipping through wallets to find IDs for the two men.

“This one is Warren Darmouth,” Nina read off the shorter one’s driver’s license. She flipped it over for them to see.

Saoirse nodded slowly, also showing the one she had found. “And Sergey Reese.” A dark, shadowy imprint of wings was under that body.

“So, Reese is clearly an angel of the Lord, woo-hoo,” Dean said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he knelt next to him. “But how much do we know about Darmouth? If no one’s confirmed he’s a demon, how do we know he is?”

“I can confirm that, Dean.”

The four of them nearly jumped out of their skins and whipped around, guns out and pointed straight at Castiel’s trademark trench coat.

He frowned. “I do not see any need for violence in this situation,” he said solemnly. They all groaned and shoved their weapons away once more.

“Jeez, Cas, you think you could give us a little bit of warning next time?” Sam asked with a sigh, massaging his temples.

“I apologize, Sam,” Castiel said, adding a slight nod of apology at Nina and Saoirse for good measure. “I merely heard Dean’s call and thought I could be of–”

“Yeah, yeah, Castiel, we all know you’re madly in love with Dean Winchester. Don’t worry about it. Dean feels the same way. Now, moving on…” Nina said smoothly, clapping her hands together and ignoring Dean’s outraged sputters (as well as Sam and Saoirse’s snickers). “You mind confirming whether this sorry son of a bitch is a demon or not?”

Castiel took one look at Darmouth’s body and wrinkled his nose. “That’s a demon alright. His real face is hidden behind the vessel’s, but it’s hideous.”

“Did you know this angel? Sergey Reese, or whatever his name was?” Nina asked, gesturing at him.

“I believe his name was Barachiel. Our factions never fought together, but he was fairly well-known in his own. Perhaps not the most physically imposing of angels, but he was cunning and clever. He could hold his own in battle,” Castiel explained.

“And the demon?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged apologetically. “The angels rarely, if ever, associate with demons who they are not actively fighting with,” he said. “I don’t think that I have ever seen this one before. I will say this, though: this demon? He was probably a somewhat powerful one. His face is even more evil looking than most, meaning he was mostly likely quite high up in the ‘hierarchy of Hell,’ if you will.”

“Oh, you mean Crowley on top and then everyone else,” Sam said sarcastically.

“That’s it!” Saoirse exclaimed. “Sammy you’re a genius! All we need to do is find Crowley and get him to tell us who this demon was. He’d know, right?”

Dean groaned. “Well, probably, but… ugh, Saoirse… I don’t feel like it,” he whined.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, boo hoo, you big baby.”

“He probably wouldn’t even tell us. He’d probably ask for one of our souls or some other overdone thing,” Sam remarked bitterly.

“Good point,” Saoirse admitted. “I suppose it doesn’t matter too much. Now the only thing we’re missing is why they got Nat, too,” she said quietly, looking over at his body with a sad expression.

“Yeah, Cas, what did he have to do with anything? He’s just a regular old human… right?” He looked at Saoirse with a tentative frown.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dean, Nat was completely human,” she confirmed slowly.

“See? He doesn’t look the type of hunter to get messed up with the angels or the demon, much less both,” Nina agreed.

Castiel hummed, resting his chin in his palm. “Demons rarely care about their victims’ status, nor their association with the angels,” he said. “All they care about is getting the things that they think they deserve.”

Saoirse said nothing


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this update took lol I kinda sorta forgot this story existed...? Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

“Uh, you got any fours?”

“Nada. Go fish.”

The rain still hadn’t let up, but Dean couldn’t pretend to mind. The motel room could only be described as small, if not downright cramped, but it did make for a rather cozy atmosphere. He and Sam were sat on one bed, playing cards with a dusty old deck they’d found in one of the drawers, while Saoirse slept on the other. From where they were sitting, they could see Nina outside. Dean watched her as she took a slow drag from a cigarette and leaned heavily against the window before turning back to the card game.

“You got any –”

Sam stopped abruptly, his face scrunched up like he was listening to something. Dean strained his ear to hear, and finally made out a very faint buzzing sound; it was definitely coming from inside the room. The two brothers exchanged suspicious glances and slowly stood from the bed, peering around to try to find the source.

They both visibly relaxed when they saw Saoirse’s phone vibrating next to her on top of the bed, but when she didn’t wake up, they both looked over at Nina, who was now shutting the door behind her.

She looked first at Saoirse’s sleeping form, turned towards the wall so all they could see was her back, then at her phone, and finally at Sam and Dean. “I’m no snitch,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “But check the caller ID.”

Sam elected himself to be the one to walk over and peer over the phone. He squinted slightly, a frown settling on his face, and turned to Nina. “Edna Shepherd…?”

“Oh, pick it up, then!” She exclaimed, plopping down next to Dean, who smiled a little at her obvious glee.

Sam picked up the phone, spared a careful glance at his sister, and picked up the call. “Er… hello?”

Nina was happily twirling a frayed thread from the quilt around her finger, Dean noted before turning back to Sam, who was listening intently.

“Oh, um, I’m Saoirse’s brother. Sam.” He paused. “No, no, it’s not just me. There’s Dean, too.”

“She never talks about us, does she?” Dean hissed to Nina, who shrugged blankly.

Sam snapped his fingers to get their attention. “Are we coming to dinner tonight?” He whispered to them, and Nina nodded enthusiastically.

“Tell her I’m coming!” She whispered. To Dean, she muttered. “Once you have her meatloaf, there is no going back.”

“Er- Saoirse said yes, Mrs. Shepherd, and to expect Nina, too.” Sam stopped, listening to what she said for a moment. “Edna, then. Yes, we’ll see you soon. You, too, ma’am.”

After Sam had ended the call, he tried to carefully place it back by Saoirse’s side, but before he could even set it down, she sat up, turned around, and shot him a glare. Nina blanched.

“What. The. Hell,” she snapped angrily at them. “What’s wrong with you guys? What made you think taking my phone and answering my calls for me was a good idea, or even remotely okay for that matter?”

Dean, Sam, and Nina looked between each other, then back at her with blank expressions.

She groaned. “You don’t just take people’s phones, guys. I know I might’ve done a crap-job at raising you two, but you should at least know that much by now. And why did you give them permission, Nina?” She asked exasperatedly, turning to her friend.

“It was just Edna! I wouldn’t have if it was Delilah or something,” Nina protested.

Saoirse put her head in her hands for a few seconds, breathing deeply through her nose, and then sat back up. “Just… don’t do that again,” she sighed finally.

“If you’re forgiving us, then does that mean we can ask who Edna Shepherd is?” Dean asked.

She chuckled. “You just never stop, do you, Dean?”

He shrugged. “Don’t plan on it.”

“She and her husband are just friends from the neighborhood,” Saoirse said with a shrug. “They live near Delilah and I’s apartment and we ran into each other a few time. Eventually, they started inviting us over for dinner and – what?” She stopped. Dean was staring at her.

“‘Neighborhood friends,’” he repeated. “Saoirse, hunters don’t have ‘neighborhood friends.’”

She leveled her gaze with his. “Are you hunters?”

“I don’t –” he began, but his sister interrupted.

“No, you’re a hunter. You’re one hunter, out of hundreds, maybe thousands in the country, so don’t throw all of us under your rock,” she said reproachfully.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I'm still updating this story tbh but here's the next chapter :P

“It’s that one on the left, with the birdbath in front,” Saoirse said, tapping Dean on the shoulder from the backseat.

He chuckled a little. “Birdbath? Lawn gnomes? Plastic pink flamingos? They’re not hunters, are they?” He laughed as he parked in the street in front of the Shepherds’ home.

She whacked his arm. “You are going to be totally pleasant in every way possible and you will say exactly zero words about anything strange, scary, or supernatural, so help me, God,” she said sternly.

“You know the thing about God is –” Dean began, but cut himself off when he glanced at her expression in the rearview mirror. “Sorry.”

Nina hid her smile behind her hand, but Sam didn’t even try.

They all got out of the car and walked up the little garden path leading to the front door. The house was everything Dean could remember dreaming of as a child – a quaint, tiny home in a nice neighborhood: respectable neighbors; good curb appeal; no monsters trying to claw your eyes out; et cetera. It was small, but nice-looking, with plain brick walls, a gray, shingled roof, and a simple front door he was now knocking on.

The door was opened just a few moments later by a cheerful-looking elderly woman with round cheeks, tightly-curled white hair, and a bright red pink apron saying, “Kiss the Cook!” Standing behind her were two men; one was about Edna’s age, a striped-button-up-shirt kind of guy wearing leather loafers; the other was much younger (and attractive), closer to Saoirse’s age. “Saoirse!” Edna exclaimed happily, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

“Good to see you two, Edna,” Saoirse laughed, hugging her back.

The older man, Tom, gave her a quick hug on her way in, while Nina was receiving her own hug from Edna. “It’s been too long, that’s for sure,” he said sarcastically.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nina give Edna a quick squeeze and turned to the young man in front of her. “Hey, Spence,” she smiled slightly. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Too long indeed, Saoirse Campbell,” Spencer said after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, grinning down at her ( _Geez, what is it about me that every guy I’m around has to be taller than me?_ She thought to herself absently.) She chuckled and pushed him away.

“Ugh, stop!” She protested, noticing Edna smile widely as she watched and Dean and Sam… glaring? “Oh, yeah, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean,” she introduced with a smile.

Tom shook their hands. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mr. Campbell,” he said gruffly.

“Uh, Winchester actually,” Dean corrected, a bit harshly. “Dean Winchester.”

Saoirse sent him a fierce glare before turning back to the Shepherds with a smile. “Um, yeah, I’m the only Campbell,” she explained awkwardly.

Edna made a tiny ‘o’ shape with her mouth, then nodded cheerfully. “So… dinner?” She said warmly, opening the door wider to let them in.

A few minutes later, all of them had been seated in the dining room, in cushioned chairs around the large oak table.

The table was nearly creaking with its heavy burden. Saoirse almost laughed at how much food there was, especially for only the seven of them; so much that she could barely see the tablecloth underneath. She probably would have laughed if her stomach wasn’t growling at the mere sight of it. She could only imagine how Sam and Dean felt.

Delicate china plates ladened with all sorts of foods decorated the tabletop: savory apple dumplings, dripping warm broth, mashed potatoes drenched in a thick pool of sweet gravy, vegetables drizzled with glaze and sprinkled with spices, and the centerpiece – a plump, juicy turkey, cooked to perfection. 

Saoirse, Nina, and Sam, along with the Shepherds, had immediately laid the neatly folded napkins across their laps. She kicked her brother under the table, jerking her head at their own napkins. Clearly biting back a snappy remark, Dean, who was sitting at one end of the table, did the same. Tom, sitting across from Dean at the head of the table, gestured for everyone to take hands.

Saoirse took Sam’s hand on her left and Spencer’s hand on her right. Spencer gave her a teasing squeeze that she returned with a smirk, and she noticed Edna beaming from across the table.

“Let us say grace,” Tom said reverently, bowing his head. The rest of them – Dean included, after another swift kick to his shin – did the same, praying together. “Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

Heads were then raised, hands released, and they began to eat.

“So, Sam, Dean – what do you do?” Tom asked, cutting his meat. Saoirse and Nina, who’d been carefully passing the platter of casserole between them, froze.

Dean paused and glanced at Sam, who was staring at him just as blankly. “Uh… do?”

Saoirse repressed the urge to roll her eyes and gave a forced laugh. “Oh, Dean, you know. Your _job_ ,” she said pointedly.

Dean, who clearly hadn't gotten the hint, “ah”ed and nodded before he and Sam both answered at once.

“Hunting –”

“Salesmen –”

They broke off and looked at each other with wide eyes.

“We’re, uh, er – that is to say – not – we don’t…” The brothers stammered, earning suspicious looks from the two elder Shepherds (plus an amused one from the younger). Saoirse sent Nina a pleading look.

Nina – who could take a hint just fine, thank you very much – quickly covered for them. “Oh, you two – always getting your words jumbled! They’re hunting rifle salesmen,” she lied smoothly as she continued to pour gravy over her vegetables with an airy smile. She set down the gravy boat and looked over at them. “Isn’t that right?”

They sighed in relief and gratitude, both giving a nod of agreement.

“Hunting rifles, huh?” Tom said interestedly, his eyebrow raised. He peered at them over the rim of his thin-wired glasses. “You know, back in my day–”

“Here we go,” Spencer muttered, covering his face with his hands.

“Quiet, Spencer. Anyways, in my day, I used to do my fair share of hunting. What brand do you sell for? Marlin? Remington? Nosler?”

Dean cleared his throat, shooting Saoirse a smug look. “Winchester, actually.”

“Well, doesn’t that sound lovely, dear!” Edna chirped. “Did you hunt a lot as a family when you three were children?”

“You could say that,” Saoirse said sarcastically, returning to her stuffing.

Sam shot her a sharp look. “Actually, we did. Our mother died when we were toddlers, so hunting is really how we bonded with Dad,” he explained.

“Oh, you poor dears!” Edna exclaimed, a hand to her heart. Tom and Spencer also looked sympathetic.

_Way to whip out the pity card, Sammy,_ Saoirse thought, unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes this time. _Well, two can play at that game._ “Yeah, Dad really liked his hunting, that’s for sure. Honestly, I sometimes thought he was just _obsessed_ ,” she said between clenched teeth, shooting a fake smile at Sam and Dean.

“You know, Saoirse, Spencer’s done some hunting in the past, too,” Edna said abruptly, sounding innocent. Spencer’s head whipped up. “You and he should go some time!”

Spencer’s cheeks were bright red. “Mom!” He exclaimed, looking over at Saoirse with pink cheeks. She grinned. Sam, Dean, and Nina were watching the scene unfold with apparent interest.

Edna ignored him. “Now, Spencer, don’t complain. Saoirse, you’re such a pretty girl. I’ve seen many a man drool over you. Why on earth won’t you give any a chance?” She asked. “I, of course, don’t judge, but tick-tock goes the biological clock!”

Now it was Saoirse’s turn to blush profusely, especially as Nina and her brothers were shaking with barely concealed laughter into their napkins.

“Now, Edna, let the poor kids alone,” Tom chastised. “You remember how it was to be their age.”

“Trust me, my girl, I’m only telling you the truth,” Edna said with a sigh.

She coughed uncomfortably, trying to smile (but probably grimacing). “Erm – yes. Th-thank you, Edna,” she stammered.

Dean caught her eye and teasingly tapped the face of his watch. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“It’s too bad about Old Mrs. Crew, isn’t it?” Spencer changed the subject awkwardly.

Edna nodded, head bowed in sympathy. “It is a shame, isn’t it? And to think I just took a casserole over to her a week or two ago! She seemed to be in such good health then,” she said.

“Who?” Nina frowned.

“Oh, she’s just a neighbor. She used to babysit me when I was little, too,” Spencer exclaimed. “She’s pretty old, but she was doing well until a few days ago. The doctors are saying she doesn’t have much longer.”

“That’s terrible,” Sam said. “I wonder how she took such a sudden turn for the worse.”

Tom hummed in agreement, setting down his glass. “From what I’ve heard, it was actually her mind that went first. One day she was perfectly fine, looking forward to the upcoming bingo competition downtown, and the next, she was completely senile.”

“Senile?” Saoirse frowned.

“One of my friends from bridge said she went off the deep end. The deep deep end,” Edna stressed. “Apparently all she would talk about was seeing a black-eyed demon murder an angel. Imagine that!"


	23. Chapter 23

Hospitals are never silent.

The dim night lights buzzed overhead. A janitor was rolling past with a squeaky mop. Every few moments there was a groan from one direction or a muffled cough from another. Beeps, some slow and steady, some quick and frantic, echoed against the walls. There was an old man hunched over on a bench, shaking with silent sobs. And still, Saoirse could hear the soft clip-clap of nurse’s footsteps on sterile tile floors.

“Is this it?” She asked softly, stopping in front of the door.

Sam glanced down at the scrap of paper Edna had given to them (albeit slightly confusedly). “204, Mirabelle Crew,” he read with a shrug.

“Remember: be sympathetic,” Saoirse hissed to Dean sharply.

He rolled his eyes at her. “I can't help but be with a name like Mirabelle,” he retorted.

The nurse who’d shown them to the correct room pushed the door open and gestured for them to come in. “Miss Crew,” she said in a slightly patronizing, sing-song voice. “You’ve got visitors, sweetie!”

Mirabelle Crew was certainly old. Her hair was a shock of white curls. She had a pinched face, like she’d just taken a bite of lemon, and was covered in wrinkles. Her skin clung to her like she was halfway decomposing already, practically skin and bones. A plethora of tubes and needles stuck in her connected to strange, beeping machines all around the room, and a thin tube of oxygen was wound into her nose.

They filed in, standing awkwardly at the edge of the bed.

“What’s that?” She muttered, cracking her eyes open; her voice was hoarse, as though she hadn’t spoken for several days.

“Visitors, Miss Mirabelle!” The nurse exclaimed again, now flicking on the lights. "Now you have a good time with these nice friends of yours, and press your call button if you need to holler, okay, sweetie?”

Mirabelle gave a tiny, weak nod, and – with a final cheerful wave- the nurse left them alone.

Immediately, the old woman’s entire demeanor changed. “Yeah, sweetie, my ass,” she grumbled and rolled her eyes.

All four of their jaws dropped. Seeing this, Mirabelle chuckled.

“Never heard an old woman curse, have you? Well, you know what I say to that? Screw it!” She laughed. “Now who the hell are all of you? I’ve never seen any of y’all in my life.”

Saoirse and the others exchanged matching looks before Dean stepped forward and flipped open his fake fed badge. “Dean Moore, ma’am, FBI. This is my partner, Sam Pitch, and our associates… Saoirse Cee and Nina Martirez,” he introduced after a short pause. “We’d just like to ask you a few –”

Mirabelle cut him off with a weak laugh. “Cut the crap, kid,” she chuckled. “It’s gonna take more than that to fool me.” She sighed at their stunned expressions. “You’re hunters, right? _Hunters_ hunters, I mean.”

Slowly, the four of them nodded.

“How’d you know?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I’ve been impersonating feds since you before were born, buddy,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’ll be a while before I lose my magic touch.” She blew on her wrinkled fingers with a wink, making Saoirse crack a smile.

“Wait, you were a hunter?” Nina gasped, eyes wide.

Mirabelle “hm”ed. “Not so much a hunter as a consultant. Yeah, I knocked off a few creepy crawlies in my day, but for the most part I just went cross-country, helping out hunters: researching urban legends, looking for new cases, providing back up when things got hairy, you name it. I did it all,” she said proudly. “It’s like hunting but with less of the commitment. Lately, though, in my ‘older age,’ as you might say, I’ve been lyin’ pretty low in the community. ‘S getting harder for me to get around, so I don’t pick up nearly as many cases as I used to.”

“You ever meet a guy named John Winchester, by any chance?” Dean asked curiously.

The old woman thought about it for a few moments, then shook her head. “’Fraid not, kid. Sorry.”

“What about Bobby Singer?” Saoirse added.

Mirabelle threw her head back and laughed harder than ever. “Ooh, Bobby Singer! He was always a sight for sore eyes!” She chuckled, wiping tears from her eyes. “Never met a man as bull-headed as that one, but he was a real sweetheart, wasn’t he?”

Dean hid his snort with a well feigned cough. “Well, anyway, you might have caught us with the whole fake police thing, but we’ve still got some questions for you,” he said.

“If you don’t mind, that is,” Saoirse butted in with a frown at her younger brother.

“Nah, y’all feel free to ask whatever you want,” Mirabelle said pleasantly. “It’s always nice to come across other hunters.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, first of all, what in hell happened to you? What’d you see? Edna Shepherd said you’d seen a demon killing an angel, but obviously a hunter wouldn’t tell anyone that, so…?”

She sighed. “Not one of my better moments, I’m afraid,” she said, quirking her dry lips into a wry grin.

“You told normal people about demons?” Dean demanded angrily. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of amazing part-time hunter or something!”

“Well, Jesus, boy, you don’t have to threaten to tear me a new one,” she grumbled. “Just let me explain what all happened. A couple days ago, I got a call from a hunter buddy that’d just gotten off a hunt. He’d accidentally left some guns or something in the forest, and he was worried the cops might find it and connect him to that Hernandez guy that got killed not too far from here. It was fairly close to my neck of the woods, so I offered to go and get ‘em.”

“Hold up one sec,” Nina interrupted. “You’re, what, seventy? And you just decide to walk into this random forest you’ve never been in to get guns for a ‘hunter buddy?’ No offense, but what in the Sam Hell is wrong with you?”

Mirabelle shrugged and said sarcastically, “I have an unquenchable thirst for adventure, girly. And I’m gonna go out fighting, that’s for damn sure.”

“So anyway, you were going to go get these guns out of the woods…?” Saoirse prompted, trying to stay on topic.

“Yes! So I parked about a mile before the woods began, and then started to walk towards them,” Mirabelle explained. “I was nearly there when this big gust of wind damn near blew me over and I saw three people arguing in the middle of the field. Like, poof, they were suddenly there! There was no way for them to just appear there unless it was something supernatural. I ducked down to hide, then kept watchin’ from behind a bush. As their fighting got louder and louder, and they started to battle it out with this silver sword things, I could see one of them had wings. Like, they kept flashing in and out of, like he couldn’t keep them if he got too mad.”

Saoirse and Nina glanced at each other.

“I know!” She exclaimed, noticing them. “So now I know it’s a freakin’ angel, but I’ve got no idea in hell what the other two things are. Then I see one of them, a woman, I think, stab the other two with her sword. They go down right away, flashin’ orange light and stuff. It was the most bizarre thing!”

“What happened next?” Dean asked sharply. “Did the thing attack you next?”

“Huh? Oh, no, kid, she never saw me. I was still behind that bush. Unfortunately, I started to feel sorta sick and stumbled a little. Then I fell, breaking my insulin thingamajig, but I still couldn’t move ‘cause I was too nervous to check if the thing was still there. After a while, I finally looked around the bush. She was still there, and kinda turned her head toward me – like this, you know? And all I could see was that she had these black, black eyes. Then bam! She disappeared.”

All four of her visitors were surely thinking the same thing. Demon.

“Long story short,” she continued, “I could barely keep myself awake, but I managed to walk back to my car and call an ambulance. Problem is, when the EMTs finally got there, I was nearly unconscious. I was so weak and confused, I’m pretty sure I was mumbling some of the stuff I’d just seen. They thought I was nuts. Luckily, I think that I’ve convinced them I was just thinking about ideas for a poem I was working on!” She snorted. “Imagine me, a poet!”

They stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Jesus,” Saoirse breathed. “I’m… so sorry.”

“Oh, the life of a hunter is crap, that’s for sure, but it’s alright. I knew that when I signed up for it. I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t want you kids to be so blue about me,” she said, waving it off.

Saoirse didn’t think she looked perfectly fine with all the tubes and needles sticking out of her, but she didn’t say that out loud.

“Why did you want to me, by the way?” Mirabelle frowned. “I mean, I’m flattered that y’all would wanna come down and talk to little ol’ me, but is this really that strange by our standards?”

“We’re working the case about what you saw, Mirabelle,” Sam explained. “And it’s happened more than once. We heard that you’d seen some things, so we just wanted to make sure we had all the facts straight before we made any assumptions.”

She nodded, smiling. “Smart one, you are. Be careful, you four!” She added sternly.

“You, too, ma’am,” they chorused politely as they started to file out. Saoirse paused behind Sam, Dean, and Nina, then quickly tugged a wrinkled business card from her pockets and hurried over to Mirabelle’s bedside.

“When it gets to the point that you can’t do this job anymore, call this number. We can hook you up with anything you need,” she whispered with a smile, placing it in her wrinkled palm.

Mirabelle nodded slowly as the nurse walked back in to check her vitals, bidding her a silent goodbye with a weak wave (plus a discrete wink).


	24. Chapter 24

“Jesus, what a life,” Sam remarked sympathetically as he shut the motel room door behind them. “Spending your whole lie doing nothing but helping other people, then ending up like… that with no thanks whatsoever? Christ…”

“Isn’t that just about every hunter, though?” Nina protested, raising on eyebrow in his direction. She’d already kicked her shoes off and flopped down on one of the beds.

Saoirse chuckled. “Oh, I think all four of us have done things completely unrelated to helping people,” she said sarcastically. “Didn’t you guys mention accidentally starting the apocalypse earlier?”

Nina rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Saoirse, don’t act like haven’t nearly brought about the end of the world. Remember that one time that you – oh, never mind.” Saoirse cut her off with a sharp glare.

“Anyway, at least we’ve got an affirmative answer on this one,” Saoirse pointed out. “Now we definitely know what the thing is that killed those angels, demons, and… and Nat. Demon.”

“Why would it kill two of its own, though?” Dean asked and frowned.

Nina shrugged. “Throw us off the trail, maybe? It’s not like there’s a shortage of demons, you know. There’s plenty of ‘em to kill if someone had to cover up their identity.”

“And we’re absolutely sure that Maribelle wasn’t just pulling our leg?” Dean said slowly, looking between the other three.

Sam glared at him. “You really think she was making it all up? For what, shits and giggles?” He said with a dramatic groan. “You could stand to be more believing, Dean.”

Dean ignored the last comment his brother made. “I think she’s a sick old woman that probably had a great hunting career back in her day, but now she might be adding little pieces to the story, or maybe removing important info without realizing,” he answered patiently.

“It’s a valid point, I guess,” Nina butted in before Sam could retaliate and turn the debate into a full-ledged Winchester brothers showdown. “Does anyone know whether demons are the only monsters with black eyes?”

“I believe I could shed some light on the topic,” a bored voice said from behind them. The four of them jumped and whirled around to see Crowley leaning against the doorframe, and he sighed. “You know, after all this time, I’m still slightly unnerved every time you jump out of your skin at the mere sight of me.”

Sam finally let his hand drop from where he’d flung it over his heart. “Jesus, Crowley!” He exclaimed in irritation. “You know, next time, it’d be swell if you could just go through the front door like a normal person – or better yet, knock!”

“Even better yet, don’t come at all!” Nina snapped.

“Tetchy little thing today, aren’t we?” Crowley scolded with a frown. “I only thought that perhaps I could be of assistance. I know that I –”

Dean cut him off before he could go any further. “No.”

Crowley blinked. “No? You haven’t even heard what I’m about to say!”

Saoirse crossed her arms over her chest with a fixed glare. “Then get to it. And do be quick about it,” she added as an afterthought. “We’ve got things to do.” It was a lie, but she wasn’t patient enough to deal with anymore of this Crowley guy’s crap.

He sighed. “Fine, fine. As you please, darling. Before I was so rudely interrupted” – he sent a glare at Dean, who promptly gave him the bird in return – “I was trying to answer your question by informing you that, yes, demons are, in fact, the only monsters with all-black eyes. Even shape shifters aren’t able to do it right, and some creatures like angels can even see through demon’s faces, so there’s definitely no faking it.” 

“There is literally no way on God’s green earth that you just came here to help us out,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “So ‘fess up before we kick you to the curb.”

Crowley smirked. “Ooh, that sounds a little kinky, even for you Dean,” he purred.

“Crowley.”

“Okay, okay, you win. I know this may be shocking to all of you, but I did have other intentions for coming her other than to assist you on your case and bless you with my presence,” he said sarcastically. “I have a bone to pick with you four.”

Saoirse fought the urge to nastily mutter, “Oh, shocking!”

Crowley continued, “It seems that I am need of your… shall we say, ‘assistance.’ I fear that I am being hunted.”

No one spoke for a moment or two, then Sam broke the silence. “Uh… hunted? Like by a hunter, or something?” He asked.

"By the thing that you four are currently hunting,” he corrected smoothly. “It seems that it’s a demon rather interested in killing me and taking the position as King of Hell. I need you to kill it, as is your... ah, specialty.”

“So there is a motive behind this,” Nina noted. “Taking over Hell.”

“Well, then, what’s the motive behind killing the angels now?” Dean butted in. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

Saoirse frowned. “What could a demon possibly gain by killing demons, angels, and a regular old hunter? I mean, I don’t see how – wait, Sam, what are you doing?” She asked incredulously.

Sam was hunched over his cellphone, his fingers swiftly flying over the keys. “I found it! This all sounded similar to stuff I had to do at Stanford in Criminal Psych. I found my old professor’s report on motives,” he replied.

“You went to Stanford?” Saoirse frowned.

Before Sam could reply, Dean interrupted. “What’s it say, Sammy?”

He looked back down at his phone and read aloud, “‘Sometimes the convicted criminal should not be suspected of a crime because of a motive for that particular individual, but the motive should be discovered and then able to be applied to your suspect. Often times, especially in cases involving criminals that suffer from episodes of psychosis or other mental illness and disorders, one will find a strong motive for several of their crimes and a lack of one for the rest. If not spurred by an episode of mental illness, and therefore – most likely – irrational or premeditated, then one may consider the possibility of a red herring,’” he finished, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“A red herring?” Dean repeated. “Isn’t that a fish or something?”

“Well, literally, yeah, but it’s also like a false clue. A purposeful dead end,” Saoirse explained.

Nina hummed. “So, what, you’re saying the only reason this demon killed Nat is to throw us off the trail?” She asked.

“Or did they kill Nat so we knew they weren’t screwing around?” Saoirse suggested quietly.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Crowley exclaimed dryly. “We have a winner!”

Dean frowned at him. “How would you know? I thought you were asking for our help here! You know as little as we do,” he protested.

The King of Hell clucked his tongue at Dean disapprovingly. “It doesn’t do well to doubt us demons, Mr. Winchester,” he said snootily. “I may not know exactly who is doing this or why, but I do know demonic nature, and this is it. A ‘red herring?’ That’s such an angel move. We demons have class, you know. We have certain standards, a bar we set for ourselves.”

“Demons… with standards?” Nina asked in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me right now, dude. Is this guy even real? I feel like he’s just some random actor you hired, like in commercials. You know, pretend you’re the King of Hell and then tell the camera that Febreeze makes trash smell like a field of daisies!”

“You humans have really gone downhill in the last century, haven’t you?” Crowley sighed.

Saoirse ignored him. “So now what do we know? That it’s definitely a demon who might want to take over Hell, and definitely wants to let people know what he’s made off?” She asked cautiously.

Dean shook his head, his voice muffled through a mouthful of something or other he’d pulled from his pocket. “She. Remember what Mirabelle said – she thought it looked like a woman, right?”

“That’s not saying a lot for most of the demons nowadays,” Crowley remarked, shivering a little. “Half of their hair is longer than the women. Then again, they might be taking a lesson from moose, here. Now can I get a definitive answer? Are you going to help me out here or not?”

The four looked between each other, knowing they were all in agreement, and turned back to Crowley.

“No. We’re doing this on our terms, for our people. Not for the queen bee of Hell. Now get the hell out,” Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! This is my first story on AO3, so I'm excited to see how this goes. The whole thing is about 85% complete, so I'll be posting chapters regularly until it's all done. I hope you guys like it, and you can follow @RainbowMatildas on Instagram for updates on the story and whatnot.


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